Harry Potter and the Cave of Revelations
by Twilight Author488
Summary: Was Paying for One's Mistakes. After being rescued by Snape from Voldemort's clutches, Harry finds that he is dying of a terrible disease. Can he save the world before his impending death, or is a cure close at hand? No SLASH Chapter 22 up!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: None of this is mine. I take no credit for the following.

Well, guys, I'm back. In a different story. If you've been reading "To Wish one Could Forget", well, there's kind of a problem there. You see, I have serious writer's block, and cannot come up with an ending to save my life. Then, I had this great brain storm for another story. So, I figured to start it before I forgot, which sometimes happens. So, tell me what you think. I look forward to reviews on this one. It's like a lot of other stories you might have read, but it's mine, so it will be original. (Cross your fingers).

Warning: Graphic scenes of abuse. No slash.

Here goes nothing.

Chapter 1: Sadly Mistaken

They thought he was safe there. There was no reason to believe he wasn't, after all. His aunt, a blood relative of Lily Evans Potter, was there, making a barrier that Voldemort and his loyal followers should never have gotten through. Shouldn't have, but did. That is where the mistake was. Dumbledore overlooked, as impossible as that may seem, one very important factor. And that was the undoing of the whole thing.

But let's begin at the beginning, shall we...?

For the first two or three days upon his arrival home, no one wanted to talk to him. He was glad, though, since he really didn't feel like talking to anyone anyway. He avoided his relatives constantly, not even eating. He wasn't hungry, anyway. There was no use eating if you weren't hungry, in his mind. Peace and quiet never seem to last for the person who appreciates it the most, though. And in Harry's case, it didn't either. It started on his sixth day back from Hogwarts. He would never forget, because he had just sent his second letter to the Order since his seeing them at the platform.

Vernon came thundering into his room just as Hedwig flew out. "You!!!" Vernon barked. "It's all your fault!"

"What's my fault this time?" Harry asked more calmly than he felt. He could feel anger radiating from Vernon Dursley. It was suffocating. Still, he couldn't show any fear, just as you couldn't show Voldemort fear.

"My job!! I'm going to lose it, and it's all your fault. I know that your kind can curse us whenever you wish! But I'll teach you!" Vernon took his right hand out of a huge pocket, and Harry saw that there was a long belt in his hand. But what was worse was what had been added to that belt. On the end of it were small shards of metal that could tear into flesh. Harry stood up from his desk quickly and backed up. He reached into his back pocket for his wand, and his eyes grew wide when he realized it wasn't there. It was on his bed, behind Vernon. Vernon's eyes cut to the bed, where he saw the wand lying. Thinking quicker than Harry could act, he snatched up the wand and threw it out of the window. Harry gasped when he realized his only defense was gone. He shrank away from the towering uncle, who was menacing enough without the belt in his hand. No one could be prepared for what happened. He had known it would be painful, but just not to what extreme. Vernon didn't leave until long after Harry had fallen unconscious.

That was when it happened. That was when things got out of hand. The Dursleys left the house when he was still very much unconscious. His magic couldn't keep the wards up alone; not with him being so weak. With Petunia gone, the wards fell.

Miles away, Voldemort's eyes began to flash the terrible red. He smiled softly to himself, and summoned a few of his deatheaters in a matter of seconds, telling them of his plan. The whole time, he was grinning like a fool. The Deatheaters nodded, and quickly left. There was no time to spare. It wouldn't be long before the wards were up again, knowing Dumbledore, and how he kept close watch over such things.

When they arrived at the house, it appeared deserted. There was no ward to hold them back. They simply blew the front door open. Fletcher was supposed to be watching again. But he had been drunk the night before, and the potion he had taken for the dreadful hangover had caused him to grow sleepy. Harry was left without defense. He was unconscious, and his guard might as well have been.

By the time the Order found, it was beyond too late. There was no hope to stop it. Dumbledore realized that the wards had fallen only because he had been alerted by Mrs. Figg. She had seen the house collapse into ruins, and the Dark Mark fly into the air. She had flooed Dumbledore. It was the last thing she would ever do. A deatheater knew where she lived, and had gone after her. They destroyed her, as well as her house. Many of the cats were inside when the building collapsed on the wide-eyed body of Mrs. Figg. Some escaped though, and were left wandering in the streets. Muggles would later say that five men dressed in completely black and wearing masks just disappeared in the middle of the street, carrying a figure that looked to be dead with them.

Dumbledore knew that they only had a matter of time before Harry would be dead. He had no choice. There was only one thing that could be done. "Severus," he started, sounding more tired than anyone had ever heard him. "Please, I know I have put you in Jeopardy so many times. But if we lose him, we lose the war. He needs to be saved. You are the only one who can."

Snape didn't meet the eyes of the wizened old wizard. He knew what would happen if he failed. He knew of the torture that he would be given; a traitor to the Dark Lord. Not a very safe title. Still, he nodded. He knew what lie at stake.

"Bide him time, and maybe we can help. Only rescue him when it is safe. It will do you no good if you get caught. You are our only hope of ever seeing Harry alive again."

"I understand," Snape said.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and a tear fell. "I was so wrong. I was sadly mistaken.

&

Tell me what you think. Hope you like it so far.


	2. Chapter 2: Traitor

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Warning: Violence. No Slash

Hi. Just wanted to keep you updated. (and my teacher wasn't at school, so I don't have any homework!) so, here it goes. Tell me what you think of it! Enjoy it. And as for wandless magic, I don't know if I'll really make that a big issue in the story. I'll see what happens though.

Chapter Two: Traitor

Harry awoke on the cold floor of a dungeon, and the first thing he heard, even before he opened his eyes, was the cold laugh of the one and only Voldemort. His head was throbbing; it didn't help that Uncle Vernon had beaten him to a pulp beforehand. "Open your eyes, Potter," the menacing voice crooned. "I know that you're awake. I can feel it." Nangini slithered on the floor nearby. Harry knew that there was no use in pretending anymore. He slowly opened his eyes in the well lit room. At least fifty death eaters stood around him, watching from behind their horrible masks. 'Cowards,' Harry thought to himself.

"Behold, the great Harry Potter, the 'Boy Who Lived.' Look at how he cannot even win against a muggle. His own uncle, nonetheless! Look at him bleeding on the floor! This is the pitiful savior of the wizarding world! The best that Dumbledore has to offer! Observe his shame!"

Harry could hear laughter from behind the masks. He raised his head up, and slowly sat up as far as his weary body would allow him. "Severus," Voldemort called. "You have something for me, don't you?"

"Yes, my Lord," Snape's voice came from behind one of the taller death eater robes. He strode to the figure and handed him a phial of a dangerous looking potion. "I do not want his wounds to heal. I want him to suffer. You give him the potion, Severus, my loyal follower."

Snape bowed obediently, then walked toward Harry. "You traitor! How could you?" Harry yelled.

"Easily," Snape answered. He lifted Harry up by his collar, and shoved the potion into his mouth. Then, he closed his hand over Harry's mouth and nose. 'Don't swallow,' Harry thought. For a good while, he stood defiant against his professor. But he was weak from the beating, and began to collapse. Unknowingly, he let his throat relax, and the potion slid easily down. He was released from the hold, and he slid onto the ground, coughing and sputtering. He made no sound, so that Voldemort would not know how he had been hurt. He would not relent. He would not let the traitor see his pain, either.

"Lock him up," Voldemort commanded in a lazy tone. "And someone clean the floor. He left a bloody mess."

Rough hands picked the young man up, and carried him to a dungeon, where the unceremoniously through him into one of the cells. He lay on the cool floor, not wanting to move. He was contemplating death. He knew that Voldemort was not going to kill him right away. He was going to bide his time, and torture him first; that much was already evident. Harry wandered how long it would take to die. He had on shoelaces, so maybe he could hang himself...

No, he wouldn't do it. Giving in to death by suicide would mean defeat either way you look at it. There was still hope somewhere. Somewhere, people were looking for him. Somewhere, people cared enough to wander what had happened to him. He closed his eyes, as he was too weary to stay awake any longer.

At what had once been the Dursely's house, Aurors and Order members, along with the MPs (Muggle Patrol) were taking care of the remains of the house. So, far, they hadn't found much. There was a lot of blood, to be sure. They had used a tracer spell to see what remained of Harry, if anything, and that was all that was found. There was no word to the Order from Snape yet on if Voldemort did in fact have Harry.

Vernon Dursely had been found returning home from the store with his family that evening. He didn't even realize that he had a small drop of blood on his sleeve. But Lupin did. He could smell it, with his keen nose when they were beginning to question Vernon at a secret building.. It was all anyone could do to restrain him from killing Vernon. "What did you do to him?" Lupin shouted.

Vernon had the audacity to shout back. "We gave him better than he deserved! He was always causing trouble. He got what was coming to him!" Two members of the Order had to drag Lupin out of the room, leaving Dumbledore with him. A sinister figure in dark robes walked in. Dumbledore nodded to him, and the hooded figure took to standing in the corner and watching.

"What did you do to your nephew?"

"Gave him what he deserved! I made him suffer like he made us suffer for all these years!"

"Oh, he will suffer alright," Snape's voice sneered from the shadows. "Do you even have a conscience enough to feel pity or regret for your own nephew? No, of course not."

"That little pain has been more trouble than he's worth. It serves him right if he were to die!"

"Can you truly decide the fate of another, Mr. Dursely?" Dumbledore asked in a calm, yet somehow painful voice. "Who are any of us to decide what happens to another human?"

"If you can call that little freak a human! All of you are just a bunch of freaks." At this point, Snape knew that the man had been drinking. No muggle who knew of a wizard's power and what he could possibly do would actually think of speaking to a wizard like that.

"Kingsley," Dumbledore called. Shacklebolt came in an instant. "Watch over him, please, and don't let him out of your sight." Kingsley nodded, and took a stance where he could keep a constant watch over the oversized muggle. Snape and Dumbledore walked out of the room and into a more private area to speak.

"How bad is it, Severus?" Dumbledore questioned.

"The situation is precarious, headmaster," Snape answered. "Potter was barely alive when he was captured, and Voldemort is going to make sure that he gets no better. There are at least two guards watching his cell all of the time. Every precaution has been taken to make sure he doesn't escape."

"Then, you can do nothing?"

"I never said that. It will be difficult, but it is possible. The only problem may be that Potter does not trust me."

"Than you need to build his trust. Make it so that he can have faith in you. Then you can rescue him. But be careful that no one catches on."

"I may need something to persuade him."

Dumbledore reached into the folds of his robes, and pulled something out. It was a small, silver instrument. The same one in fact that Harry had broken only weeks before in rage. "Tell him, no matter how bad the situation, broken things can often be fixed. I think he will believe you."

Snape took the instrument, although he looked doubtful. "I will relay your message," he said quietly.

"We will organize his escape. If it looks at any moment like he may be killed, save him. But we will try to make this as organized and planned as possible. We may have a week, maybe more, maybe less."

"I am prepared to do what it takes," Snape said. Bowing slightly, he turned and left out of the room.

Dumbledore knew he could count Snape to relay the message, but he didn't know if Harry would believe him or not. He prayed that he would, or it just may be the end to them all.

* * *

Please R/r. Tell me how you liked it!


	3. Chapter 3: Hope for the Dying

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.

Hello again, and welcome back to this story. Or, if you are new and just beginning to read this story, than welcome, and I hope that you enjoy it. Thanks to everyone who took the time to review.

So, if you're patient with me, I'll try to get these chapters out at a regular basis. I have loads of work to do almost day, so it may take a while at times.

Anyway, here goes another exciting chapter. Beware, it's a little graphic.

Chapter 3: Hope for the Dying

Harry only had a blurry memory of that night. He kept trying to escape the mocking laughter of death eaters and the pain his uncle and caused by sleeping. His mind was fuzzy and he couldn't concentrate. He had the sneaky suspicion that someone had drugged him before he had been taken back to their hideout.

The next morning arrived, and Harry felt more alert, which was very unfortunate in his case. He was in pain, and he knew that the pain would not relent. It was only a matter of time before they would come back for him. It was all just to prove a point. Just to prove that they were stronger and better, and that he would never defeat them. There were many times when he believed them.

He watched closely, and noticed that there were always two death eaters guarding him. They stood there with the mask on their face and the robes over their head. Of course, they used each others' names when talking, so it really defeated the purpose. He had to hand it to Voldemort: he really knew how to pick the 'smart' ones.

Harry felt them coming before he even saw them. He could feel Voldemort's anticipation as he waited for them to bring him forward. He tried to fight the rough hands that moved to pick him up, but it was in vain. He felt the point of a wand in his back, and knew enough not to push the holder to use it. He was drug forward to the same large room as the night before. It looked for the most part the exact same. Except that now there were large chains dangling from the wall, seeming to laugh at him with their cold, steel grins. The death eaters glared at him, as though hungry lions waiting for the kill. He could feel their blood thirst.

"Welcome back, Mister Potter," Voldemort hissed from the center of the group. "How do you like it? I was trying my hand at decorating, and I think it came out nicely." Harry didn't answer. He couldn't come up with anything to say. He just kept quiet. Besides, he needed to conserve energy for what would happen next. He knew that it was not going to be easy for him. But he also knew that they weren't going to kill him; yet.

"Severus!" Voldemort called. "Bring them." A tall death eater stalked to the center and handed three phials filled with dangerous looking liquids to the snake-like man. Meanwhile, the death eaters restraining Harry took off his shirt, and clasped the irons around his wrists. He was now strapped to the ceiling, and he knew there would be no escaping from them.

Voldemort stalked forward. "Nice wounds, Potter," he hissed. "Pleasant to think of how you can't fight against your own relatives. Very interesting, as well."

He pulled a green colored liquid from among the phials. "Amazing looking, isn't it? Designed by your own potion's master, I do believe. Do you want to know what it does?"

"No, not really," Harry answered blatantly.

"Pity. I'll tell you anyway. You see, it makes the drinker feel as though his insides are being ripped out. How does that sound?"

"Not too pleasant."

"No, it doesn't. But I will surely enjoy its effects, since I will be administering it to you. Now, open wide." Harry stubbornly clamped his mouth shut. Voldemort put his hand on the young man's face, and the pain was so excruciating that Harry opened his mouth in a gasp of pain. In that short amount of time, the potion was in his mouth and down his throat. The pain began instantaneously. At first, he tried not to scream; not to make any noise whatsoever. But pain finally won over, and he let out the worst yell he ever had. It was pain beyond pain. It was pure torture, to put it plainly. It did feel as though someone was ripping him inside out. Blood began to pour out of his nose, and his eyes became a bloodshot red. And then, just as soon as the pain had started, it ended. Harry now hung loosely from the chains, temporarily weakened by the potion.

"Did that hurt? I hope it did. Let us find out what this one does, shall we?" Harry had no will to resist the potion. It didn't even need to go into his mouth. It was poured onto his skin, and it felt as though it were burning. The skin remained as it was before, but it felt like it was burned. He screamed again, and the shrill sound pierced the air. The next potion made him sick, to say the least. He felt nauseous, and although he tried to hold it back, he eventually heaved onto the floor anything that was left in the pit of his stomach.

"Well, Severus, using that creative license again, aren't you?" Voldemort laughed. Harry hung from the chains, his knees bent drastically, and his body only supported by the wrists. He wished he could just lie down and rest. He was so tired. But he knew that wouldn't happen yet.

From the folds of his robe, Voldemort brought a belt. It looked just like the one that his uncle had had. In fact, he was pretty sure it was the exact same one that had been used on him once before. The pieces of metal shone in the dim light, but they were also stained with blood. He could feel Voldemort's pleasure as he cringed inwardly at the sight of the weapon.

Harry had already been through so much in the past couple of days. At the first lash, he gasped loudly, his throat unable to muster enough effort to scream. At the second lash of the belt, he fainted, his body slouching terribly into the binds that held him. Voldemort was taken back for a second, before he decided not to let the boy's fainting keep him from having a little fun. The belt continued to fall on the boy's broken body. His blood stained the floor in massive puddles. After about ten minutes, Voldemort ordered for his body to be taken down from the chains. "Severus, take him back to his cell. The rest of you, let us celebrate."

"Are you sure you do not want two of us to guard the boy?" Severus asked.

"He's not going to try to escape for a while, and I have the greatest confidence in you, Severus." To anyone else, this might have been sarcasm. But to Severus Snape, Voldemort was absolutely serious, and trusted Snape to a great degree. Snape bowed deeply, and then did as he was told.

When Snape finally arrived at the cell with the boy levitating out in front of him, he eneverated the boy. Harry blinked his eyes wearily, gasping in pain the moment he had awakened. "What...do you want...now?" he gasped, his voice barely audible.

"I have a message from your headmaster," Snape whispered as quietly as he could, to the point where Harry could barely hear him. "He says, 'no matter how bad the situation, broken things can often be fixed.'" From a fold in his robes, he brought out the once broken instrument. Even without his glasses, Harry recognized it. He looked at Snape for a moment, then back at the instrument. "Trust me now," Snape urged. "As soon as I am able, it will be me who has to get you out of hear, and I will need your trust to do that."

Harry gulped and nodded, before he fainted again on the floor. Snape hid the instrument again, and stalked out of the cell, locking it behind him. He had no idea how long it would take to be able to figure a way out of the prison, but he knew that he had to do it soon, or Harry Potter would be lost to the wizarding world, forever.

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Please r/r. Sorry it took so awful long.


	4. Chapter 4: Attempted Rescue

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Absolutely nothing. All belong to J.K. Rowling.

Hope you enjoyed the last chapter. I'm writing this at the same time I'm posting the last chapter, although it wont be finished for a while. Enjoy it, and tell me what you think. Don't be afraid to r/r this. I really enjoy reading reviews. Just, if you're going to criticize it, be nice, please, and don't be mean. I like constructive criticism, but there is a fine line between constructive criticism and being rude.

Here we go:

Chapter 4: Rescue Attempt

"We have to get him out soon," Dumbledore stressed, as they were talking a few days later. "He may be killed at any time."

"He just can't die, Albus!" Lupin said. "He's the last person I really have left. He's almost like a son to me."

"I know Remus. I think it is high time we bail him out."

"And how do I do that, Headmaster?" Snape questioned. "Grab him and waltz out of there?"

"Yes. I think that is exactly the only thing that can be done."

"You have got to be joking."

"I'm not. When there is no one else around, I think you may just have to take him out of there by hand. You can't appearate from there, so you may have to get out of the wards by foot."

"Do you have any idea how hard this will be to accomplish?"

"Yes. I do. But this is our only chance. Voldemort will kill him soon, even you admitted that."

"True, but..."

"You must do this, Severus. For the sake of the wizarding world."

"If I am caught, both of us will die, and then nothing can be done to save the boy."

"If we wait any longer, it will be too late anyway. Trust me, Severus. I have confidence in you." The words made Snape remember the words Voldemort had said to him earlier. Two people trusted him; two who thought that they could trust him with anything. How ironic that only one of them was right.

"I will do it," Snape said. "As soon as you wish for me to."

"I want him back as soon as possible," Remus said. "Please."

"I agree," Dumbledore said. "Save him as soon as you deem safe. Stay around there, and when you are alone, get him out of there. We will have the Order waiting. We cannot be too nearby, or else he may become suspicious."

"That gives me an idea, Albus," Remus said. "If Voldemort believes that there is a meeting for the Order held at an open location, he may come with death eaters to strike. Snape could deliver the message. Since Voldemort thinks that Snape is his secret weapon. He will leave Snape to guard Harry, while he and the rest of the death eaters go to break up the meeting. In that time, Snape can get out of there without getting caught."

"It's crazy," Snape said, sneering.

"But it may just work," Dumbledore said. "Yes, in fact, that is a brilliant idea. Severus, tell Voldemort that a meeting is being held for auror's and members of the order. It will be the perfect opportunity to attack. He will believe you. Tell him it is to be held at eight o'clock at the old pub in Angel's Haven, that old abandoned town in Ireland. That should give you enough time to escape."

"Yes sir," Snape said. "I will do it. Be prepared for anything. I don't know how long I will have before he figures out that he is set up."

"We will leave traps for him," Dumbledore said. "It will make it hard to break into the pub, and harder to get back out."

"How long do you need to set it up?"

"I can contact wizards in the region, and they can be ready within an hour. When we get the all clear, you can leave."

"I'll be ready."

"What can I do?" Lupin asked.

"You are going to wait here, along with Madame Pomfrey, for the two to arrive back. The rest of the Order will be look outs in Ireland and usual death eater hangouts."

"Let me do something more useful," Lupin pleaded.

"Stay here, and you can be of more assistance to Harry. He will want to see you upon waking up."

Lupin sighed, but agreed. "Bring him back as safely as possible," he asked of Snape, when Dumbledore left to get in touch with the Irish wizards.

"That is what my mission is, and that is what I will do," Snape sneered.

"He's more than just a mission, Severus. He's a human being, and he means a great deal to a lot of us. Is it so wrong to care what happens to people?"

"You know what I think of him. He is nothing more than an arrogant little brat."

"No, he's not. He's a boy, whose life has never been easy for him. You know that. You still think of him as his father. I admit it, Severus, his father was an arrogant brat, but Harry's not. He looks like his father, but it's not James Potter. You've never given him a chance. Of anyone, you should know that children do not follow their parents' footsteps."

Snape cringed, but realized that Lupin was right. He left the room, and waited alone for Dumbledore to return. When the headmaster arrived, he nodded to Severus. "Good luck, son," Dumbledore wished. "And you return safely yourself. I want both of you back here and safe. Understand me?"

Snape nodded, then turned and walked out of the door, then appearated away from the Order. Dumbledore gave the signal, and everyone took their positions, and waited for the time to come that they would get back the hero of the wizarding world.

* * *

Snape ran into Voldemort's hideout. "Sir!" he cried, kneeling on the ground before the Dark Lord. "I have urgent news for you."

"Go ahead, Severus," Voldemort said. "What has happened?"

"Dumbledore is holding a meeting with certain Order members and aurors in Ireland. He is at a location that is not too heavily protected. He thinks you will not be able to find him."

"Ah! And where and when is this meeting?"

"At eight o'clock, in Angel's Haven. It is at the only pub in that old town. I don't know how long the meeting will last, but they will be there."

"Good job, Severus. I will take my loyal death eaters there. As for you, stay here and guard the Potter boy. He has just received his punishment, and should stay unconscious for a while longer."

Voldemort reached over and grabbed the arm of the death eater who was standing nearby. He pressed his finger onto the mark on his forearm. Instantly, death eaters began to appear. In a few minutes, all were in attendance. "My loyal subjects!" Voldemort greeted. "The time has come! We know where that muggle loving fool Dumbledore is. He will not be expecting us. We will leave here at seven thirty, to attack his location. Kill everyone there, and show no mercy. They may have guards waiting for us, but we will outnumber them greatly. All of you are to go, except for Snape here, who will guard our most famous prisoner ever."

"But Lord, that gives us only a short time to prepare," a death eater commented.

"Crucio!" Voldemort hissed. The death eater screamed and writhed, before he was finally released from the curse. "Do not doubt what I am capable of. We will attack tonight, and be victorious. They will never see it coming!"

'Now I have only to wait,' Snape thought.

The time passed slowly, but finally the time came to leave. They all prepared for the long appearating distance, as Snape made his way down to the dungeon. He looked at his watch. At exactly seven thirty, he heard many loud pops, as everyone disappearated away. He knew he had only a short time to work. He unlocked the door to the cell, and crouched beside Potter. He poured a potion in the boy's mouth to give him strength, then eneverated him. "Come Potter," he urged. "We must leave quickly."

"I cant move," Harry said. "It's too painful."

"You have to move, or both of us will die here. Now get up!" and with that, Snape lifted the boy up from the floor. He swayed on his feet, and Snape had to keep him supported. "Walk!" Snape commanded. Harry walked as best as he could, stumbling every so often. Snape kept a sharp eye out just in case. "Come on!" he urged.

"Can't..." the boy gasped.

"Yes you can. Or I will leave you here!" Harry almost believe him, and kept walking. "Look! There's the exit!" At the same time, a death eater appeared in front of Snape.

"Where are you going, Snivellus?" Wormtail's voice came from behind the mask.

"I should ask you the same question," Snape spat. "What's the matter? Were you scared and flee? The Dark Lord will not appreciate your cowardice."

"He'll forgive me when he sees that I caught a traitor." Snape knew that he couldn't reach his wand without Pettigrew cursing him. What he didn't count on, was Potter grabbing the wand. "Stupefy!" The boy yelled, at the same time that Snape noticed his wand had been taken from the folds in his robes. Peter dropped onto the floor in a cold faint.

"Not bad, Potter," Snape hissed. "Now, give me my wand." Harry obliged, and they continued walking. They reached the door, and Harry breathed the night air deeply. It was his first taste of freedom in over a week. "Come, we cannot linger here. We have to make it past the anti-appearation wards."

"Where?" Harry gasped.

"Beyond those trees. It's about half a mile. You can do it." Even half asleep, Harry noticed that it was the first time Snape had encouraged him in anything. That in itself, made Harry more confident. It also made him more worried, though, that even if he made it, he would not live to enjoy his freedom. They walked, Harry stumbling over any little root or dirt mound along the way. They reached the trees, just as loud pops echoed through the night. Voldemort had returned, and Harry could feel that he was not happy in the east. Snape and he waited silently in the shadow of the trees, as the death eaters marched inside. Neither of the two escapees dared to move. They waited, as the dread and fear of being found increased in both of them.

* * *

Please r/r.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: This all belongs to JK Rowling.

Hi again. Sorry its taking so long. Thank you to the wonderful reviewers! I promise to continue writing this one. As for "To Wish One Could Forget", I am so sorry, but I just plain ran out of ideas. If you have any, I'm open to any suggestions anyone might have for finishing that one. As for this story, I still have plenty of ideas to keep it going, only limited time to write them down.

And umm, I'm not going to go easy with the whole "escaping" thing. Just don't happen. I like drama and angst, so, I'm just warning you.

Well, enjoy. Here we go again. Please r/r afterwards.

Chapter 5: Of Traitors and Betrayers

The two figures remained absolutely still until the Death Eaters completely disappeared. "Why can't we just appearate?" Harry asked quietly.

"You can only appearate or dissappearate when the Dark Lord wants you to. Other than that, you can't. That's why it's a great prison. Now, let's get moving. They'll discover you're gone shortly. But before we go any farther," Snape reached into his pocket, "you need to have this back."

Harry opened his hand and received the thing that Snape held out to him. It was his wand. "Where did you get this?" Harry questioned.

"We found it in the bushes of your home. It hadn't been destroyed in the fire. "

"Thank you," Harry said gratefully.

Snape practically pulled Harry to his feet, and they began walking away again. Harry began to gasp for breath, and Snape felt the boy's weight begin to fully lean on him. "Not much farther," he said. Harry was surprised to hear how encouraging his voice sounded.

"Don't move another step," a voice said from the side' a voice that Harry knew all too well. It was none other than Lucius Malfoy, who stepped into viewpoint, his death eater's robe and mask still hiding his face. Still, both Harry and Snape knew who it was. "What a surprise, Severus, to discover that after all this time, you were the traitor. And to think that the Dark Lord trusted you so much. He will reward me greatly for turning you in."

"Move out of the way, Lucius," Snape commanded.

"Or what? They boy won't be able to escape, and in case you haven't noticed, I have my wand aimed at you, so if you make any sudden movements, don't think I won't blast you away."

"There are two of us, and one of you," Harry said quietly. "You may be able to get one of us, but can you get us both without one of us hitting you?"

"One is better than nothing," Malfoy remarked snidely, although Harry had taken away some of his confidence.

Snape slowly made his way from where Harry was standing, and without the support of a strong arm, Harry nearly fell flat on his face. "Stop moving!" Lucius commanded. Snape obediently stopped. Footsteps and voices were heard behind them. "Ah, just in time."

Snape used the opportunity of Lucius being distracted to yell "Expelliarmus!" Lucius went flying in the opposite direction of his wand, slamming into a tree behind him. "Come on, Potter," Snape hissed. "We haven't a second to lose!" Harry struggled to his feet, and Snape turned, then seemed to fall away from view with a gasp of surprise.

"Professor," Harry softly called after his professor. 'What has happened to him?' he wandered. A voice behind him hissed, "Now I have you." Turning quickly, Harry saw that it was Peter Pettigrew. He had somehow woken up and made his way to where Harry and Snape had been. He was without his wand, but armed with a very dangerous looking knife.

Harry would have screamed, had he the energy left in him. But there not a breath to be spared for screaming, and come to think of it, would he really want the other death eaters to hear him. Either way, he was pretty well doomed. He suddenly remembered that he had his wand with him once more. Taking caution to make sure that Wormtail didn't see his wand, he quickly raised it up and aimed and fired a curse at Wormtail. But instead of the curse finding its mark, it bounced away with a swift motion of his hand.

Startled, Harry saw that Wormtail had raised his silver hand and warded off the curse. It was amazing, and at the same time very frightening. He shuddered and stumbled backwards, as Wormtail thrust the knife in his direction. "Master! I have him here!" Wormtail called to Voldemort. Harry knew that he had to fight if he was ever going to get away. So, fight he did. As Wormtail had turned his head to call for Voldemort, Harry lunged for the overweight, balding servant.

Wormtail cried in surprise, and raised a hand to defend himself. He was overtaken by the scrawny, nearly dead boy, and couldn't defend himself to, literally, save his life. Harry latched onto the silvery arm so that Wormtail could not use whatever magic it harnessed. Wormtail's knife lay on the ground not far away, but just out of reach of the both of him. Harry didn't know if he could use it to defend himself anyway. He was angry with Wormtail, but killing him was something he was unsure of. Wormtail, however, would not hesitate to use the knife if given a chance.

The two struggled for a long time. Voldemort had been delayed temporarily, but nothing would hold him away from his objective for long. Harry was weak because of his recent mistreatment, but Wormtail was naturally weaker. However, it was inevitable what happened next.

Wormtail gained an advantage over Harry. He had not recently been in a plight for his life as Harry had. Eventually, Harry was pushed aside by Wormtail. The two of them had been struggling so hard, that when Harry was roughly thrown aside, he heard his arm crack, and knew that it was broken. Lights flashed before his eyes, and he felt sick at the sound.

Wormtail took the advantage he had and used it to grab the knife that lay abandoned on the warm earth. Harry struggled to stand on his own two feet as Wormtail darted toward him. The knife paused between them as Harry struggled to keep it away from himself. His right arm, the one which had not been broken, soon gave out though. He felt the cold steel stab into the skin of his stomach, and the sickening sound of the blade going through skin and blood. He felt the blood begin to pool around the blade, until Wormtail pulled it free of Harry. The teenager stood there for a moment, as though in shock at what had just happened. He was in pain, although his mind had yet to realize it. He sank onto his knees in an almost forlorn fashion.

"This time, there will be no escaping alive," Wormtail said in a snide tone.

"How could you?" Harry gasped.

"You shouldn't be surprised. You, of all people, know what I am capable of."

"You are a COWARD!" Harry shouted the last word. "A traitor and a betrayer! You hurt the only people I loved, and who truly loved me! And for what?"

"The Dark Lord will reward me greatly when this war is won. I have done more than my share to secure my position as one of his right hand men."

A thought occurred to Harry then. Maybe it was part of the exhaust, and the mental fatigue, but he clearly remembered something he had been told at the end of his third year: That Wormtail owed him a wizard's debt. He had saved Wormtail's life, as pitiful a life as that was, and as undeserving he was to have his life saved.

"You owe me," Harry said quietly.

"What?"

"You owe me. I saved your pathetic life. And this is how...I...am repaid." Breathing was becoming more difficult, and the blood seemed to flow more steadily as the time wore on. He knew he hadn't much longer.

Wormtail stood there, shell shocked at what he had just been told. It was the face someone has when they are told something that they knew, but had forgotten, even though they should have remembered, along with the look of dread and regret. After all, what happens to a wizard who doesn't fulfill his debt to another? Ask a ghost, and maybe they will tell you.

Wormtail realized what he had to do as Harry tried to stand again, and this time collapsed against a tree. Death eaters came from everywhere, seeing Harry and Wormtail there in the trees. "I'll kill him!" Crabbe and Goyle said in unison.

"No!" the sharp voice of Voldemort rang clear. "I will be the one to kill him. Wormtail here has just made my job much easier."

"I can't let you do it," Wormtail said in a quiet voice.

"What did you just say?" Voldemort hissed.

"I can't let you kill him. I am indebted to him. I owe him my life."

"You owe the boy nothing! Now step aside, or you will meet the same fate as he!"

"I can't!"

Harry was surprised at the sight unfolding before his eyes. He would have appreciated it more, had he not been on the verge of dying right there. Wormtail was actually being brave, for once in his life.

"You were warned!" Voldemort said, almost shrieking.

"Avada Kedarva!" The green light came from the tip of the wand, and Wormtail was dead in an instant.

Wormtail fell to the ground, landing on a great pile of dust that had been directly underneath him. As the dust clear, the death eaters saw something they couldn't believe. Harry Potter was gone!

Snape, unseen by all there, appearated there and away in a split second. He had managed to sneak Harry away from the prying eyes. They landed not far away, because Snape himself was very warn out. He had met up with a huge plant that had seemed to want to trap him. No spells had worked, and he had had to fight it. The plant had had poisonous thorns that tore skin easily, and had fought Snape. (He would have to remember to ask Professor Sprout about it.) He had heard yells and words coming from Harry and someone who sounded like Wormtail, but had been unable to do anything.

He fell to the ground, with Harry still firmly in his arms. He sank to the ground, and realized how badly injured the boy really was. Blood spilled everywhere, and he was barely breathing. His skin was cool to the touch, and he had the look of someone on their way out of this life.

Rising to his feet, Snape looked around. From a distance, he could see Dumbledore and Lupin running toward him. He felt relieved, and yet distraught at the same time.

As Lupin neared, only slightly ahead of Dumbledore, Snape extended Harry toward him. He hasn't much longer, he said. Then, as soon as Harry was out of his hands, he collapsed, the poison from the plant having taken its full effect.


	6. Chapter 6: Not Out of the Woods Yet

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Thank you for being so patient with me, as it takes me a while to get my chapters up. And especially, thank you for all of the reviews. I really appreciate your feedback. To my wonderful reviewers:

Padawan Jan-AQ- Glad that you like it so far. I don't like the easy escapes, either. Too, easy. I like a little drama, if you know what I mean. Thanks for giving each of my chapters such a great review.

Weirdcraz24- here, I've continued. Enjoy

Shelly101- here you go. Enjoy. Hope it comes out okay and that you like it.

Indiegurl2008- thanks for reviewing. I would enjoy having a beta reader again, cause I know that I need it badly.

Opal- Good point about the potions, but we're going to say, for the sake of this story, that he had no potions carried on him than the ones Voldemort wants, and so that way we have more of a dramatic story. Thanks for reviewing.

Shadowed hand- Here is the next part, so you can see if they'll be saved or not.

HecateDeMort- thanks

Rosiegirl- Sorry this is taking a long time; I know how you like those chapters to come out quick. Here you go.

TruthxInxShadow- sorry to have done that to you, but I hate to say that I enjoy cliffhangers.

Volleypickle-glad that you liked it so much. And sorry for the crappy ending to 'To Wish One Could Forget', but I didn't know how else to end it. Sorry.

And to all who didn't review on the last chapter, but may have read it anyway, enjoy this chapter, which was long in arriving. And if anyone is in contact with the author 'Corbin Slate', tell her to please update her story! I have been waiting forever.

Chapter 6: Not Out of the Woods Yet

"Do you see them?" Dumbledore asked Shacklebolt, as they scanned the darkness for a sign of Snape with Harry.

"Nothing," Kingsley reported back.

"They shouldn't be much longer. Voldemort should be back any minute."

"Why do you say that?"

"I just received word that Voldemort found out that it was a setup."

"Then they had better hurry." From the darkness, they heard several loud pops, indicating the arrival of many wizards by way of appearating. Dumbledore's face grew grave, and he didn't see anyway for Snape to escape now. If he did, it would be a miracle.

"Should we go help them now?" came a worried voice from behind Dumbledore's shoulder.

"Give them a minute, Remus," Dumbledore replied. "I have faith in Severus and Harry."

"But I have a bad feeling about this," Remus said. "You know that I don't trust Severus, Albus."

"I know you don't, but that's not what matters. He is our only chance of saving Harry. If he fails, we have nothing else."

"I hope that you're right in trusting him."

"I do too," Dumbledore said, too low for anyone to hear.

* * *

"He hasn't much longer," Snape said, before he collapsed, overcome with the poison of the plant which he had just battled. He fell on the ground, immediately unconscious. Laughter rang out from the mouth of Lupin, a cruel, snide laugh. Dumbledore joined in.

"Fool," Dumbledore said.

"Come on, let's not waste time, we must get them to our master." Goyle's voicesaid. He and Crabbe quickly levitated the two bodies back to the building from where they had just escaped. At the same time, two death eaters, named Smith and Johansson, had taken hairs from Severus Snape and Harry, and added them to a polyjuice potion. Then, disguised as the two prisoners, they began to try their way to where Dumbledore and his aurors should be waiting.

It took a while of walking and searching, but eventually, someone caught sight of the wandering "Snape" and "Harry". Relief swept over most of the people their, who had been waiting with anxious trepidation as they waited for the return of Snape with Harry. But as Dumbledore looked at the two figures walking in their direction, he felt that something was extremely wrong. Harry was standing on his own, and appeared to be absolutely fine. But Harry shouldn't be fine; according to Professor Snape, he was nearly dead. And Severus had carried no potions with him to help Harry, lest he be caught with them, and made things look suspicious.

As the two neared closer, and a few of the group were preparing to go out and meet the two, Dumbledore waved his hand for them to stop, and stop they did. They had no clue as to why Dumbledore would not want them to precede to help the returning comrades, but they stopped nonetheless. Dumbledore shook his head, and they sank farther back into the shadows as Harry and Snape advanced.

* * *

Meanwhile, Voldemort was hovering over the two prisoners he now had. They had been tied to two poles that were facing each other, so they wouldn't escape. He was simply standing there, and patiently waiting for one or both of them to awaken. But his patience was beginning to run thin, and both of them looked as though they were about to drop dead any minute. "Lucius," he hissed quietly, "fetch two healing potions and give them to these prisoners. But only enough so that they will both be awake. I don't want them healed much, just enough so that they are aware."

"As you wish, my lord," Malfoy responded, bowing deeply. He departed for a moment, then returned with the two potions. He gave Harry a good swallow of it first, and then Snape. "That's enough," Voldemort said impatiently. "Enneverate."

Slowly, both of them regained conciousness. Snape awoke first, aware only that he was restrained, as he couldn't see anything at first. His eyes slowly began to focus, and the first thing he saw was Harry, restrained across from him. He, too, was beginning to stir. "What happened?" he thought wearily, as he recognized the situation he was in.

He looked over, and saw Voldemort, standing before them in an almost taunting manner. "That was very risky of you Severus," Voldemort began. "Very brave, very risky, and very, very stupid. Of all my loyal servants, I would never have suspected you."

"That was where you were stupid," Snape sneered.

"How dare you? Especially when you are in no position to defy me, Severus? But no worries, you will pay. You and the boy. No, I won't kill you yet, but I will make you suffer greatly before you die. You will both pay dearly. Not only with your lives and torture, but with the lives of those you hold dear." And with that, he dramatically swept out of the dungeon. Harry hung his head in resignation, and Snape sighed deeply, only to discover that that hurt considerably.

"Potter?" he asked. "Are you alright?"

The question surprised Harry, but he nodded. He looked at his especially ill-looking professor, and said "What about you?"

"I've been better," he responded.

"Is there any way to escape?"

"Not from here," Snape said glumly. Especially not from here. This place was made so no one could escape."

"Bloody wonderful. Then what do we do?"

Professor Snape was silent for a long time, and he hung his head down. For a moment, Harry was afraid his professor had fainted. Finally, he answered with a "I have no idea."

Harry sighed. Darkness edged into the corners of his brain, but he fought it off for the time being.

* * *

"Dumbledore! I have him!" shouted the Snape that was heading in their direction.

"Don't," Dumbledore said to Lupin, who wanted to run in the direction where Snape and Harry were.

"Why? It's them. They've escaped. We have to go to them, just in case."

"No, it's not them."

"How do you know?"

"Look at the way Snape is walking. He's swaggering, not walking in his usual stride. And Harry is perfectly fine. There is no way that he could be better now. It's not them."

"Dumbledore!" Harry's voice called. "Lupin!" Lupin paused in his debate. 'He usually calls me Remus,' he thought.

"Do you believe me?" Dumbledore questioned.

"I think I may." Lupin carefully aimed his wand at the two approaching figures. "Not yet," Dumbledore said. The rest of the Order was waiting for a signal from their leader, and upon seeing the two wands drawn, the rest followed suit. As Snape and Harry approached closely enough that they should have been able to see the Order, Dumbledore gave the order. "Stupefy!" rang from many voices in the wooded area. The two dropped on the ground.

"Should we check?" Lupin asked.

"Tie them up, and we'll see if, within the next hour, the polyjuice potion wears off, or if I was wrong. But I am sure that I am not."

"I believe you." Lupin walked over, followed by Shacklebolt and Moody, and they tied up the two imposters. They moved them quickly into the hiding place, where they could all keep a close and careful eye on them.

* * *

"Snape?" Harry asked.

"What Potter?" Snape asked.

"What will they do to us now?"

"Torture us both to insanity," Snape said promptly.

"That was pessimistic."

"You asked, and I told you the truth."

"Thanks," Harry muttered glumly. "Gives me something to look forward to." As he finished his sentence, four death eaters walked into the room, untied their prisoners, and led them out. "Let the fun begin," a voice cackled into Harry's ear as they dragged him away.

* * *

"I don't know them," Lupin said. "They must be new or something."

"I can't believe this." Moody said.

"I can't either. I was sure that they would have escaped. "

"What should we do with them?" There was a mysterious glint in his eye, as if he had an idea of his own

"I think we should give them a taste of their own medicine," one suggested.

"No," Dumbledore said. "We will hold them at the same place where we had the Dursleys, and make sure they don't escape. We won't lower ourselves to their leel. We're better than that."

"What about Snape and Harry?"

Dumbledore bowed his head in shame. "I don't know," he admitted. "I just don't know."

* * *

So, that's all for now. Please r/r. 


	7. Chapter 7: A Truce

Disclaimer: None of this is mine.

ShadowedHand- Glad to keep you in stitches. Enjoy it. Always glad to here from people who enjoy my cliffhangers. ;)

AuroraAbbieSnape- Glad to know that my story is different (I thought it was like a lot of others) Thanks for the reviews.

Diane- thanks for the optimism. As for your question of Snape and Harry, you'll just have to wait and see. Hate to do that to you. ;) (Well, maybe I feel a little guilty.)

Shelly101- There's nothing wrong with being insane. (just ask my friends about that one)

LadyLily3- So sorry, but I just wanted to leave it there. That way, I keep people wandering, "What happens next?" so that they have to read the next chapter.

TruthxInxShadow- I like cliffies too. Isn't it fun? Of course, readers don't like it too much, but it's fun to do. I'll read the non-slash version of your story. (Sorry, I just don't like the whole boy-boy thing)

Volleypickle16- glad that you liked it

Rosiegirl- glad that you liked it.

HectateDeMort- thanks. 

And guess what, if you're reading this, I have just published a new chapter! Yay me! So, I hope you enjoy it. Don't forget to read and review afterwards, so I know what you all think. You may not like me for all the cliffhangers by now.  whoops! But, anyway, I'm tired and I'm rambling, so here goes nothing. Enjoy it:

Chapter 7: A Truce

"Wake up!" Snape hissed as Harry's head lulled to the side again. They were being led to a place where Voldemort and the rest of his gang awaited. Snape had noticed that Harry was mostly being drug, and saw that he was nearing sleep. 'He won't last long, lucky for him,' Snape thought glumly.

"Welcome back," a voice said, one that was all too familiar. "I hope you enjoyed your brief little jail break. Too bad it didn't last very long at all. You don't realize what you have thrown away, Severus. You could have been great. I would have made you my number one death eater."

"Guess you were wrong about that," Snape said quietly.

"Yes, well, I won't be making that same mistake again."

"Then go ahead and kill me, and get it over with."

Voldemort laughed in a tone that would have made anyone shiver. "You know better than that, Severus. I will make you pay for betraying me. Bellatrix!" he called. From a corner, Bellatrix Lestrange walked out of the circle of death eaters and stood before them. "Hello, Baby Potter," she greeted nastily. "Do you remember our last meeting? When I killed your godfather?" she let out a laugh of malice.

Harry fought against his bindings to attack her. He wanted so much to cause her pain. Instead, he was bound tightly, too tightly to ever have hopes of escaping. The death eaters in the circle laughed. "Do you remember, young Potter, how you tried to place me under the Cruciatus curse?" Snape snapped his eyes toward Harry in surprise, but said nothing. "Let me show you how it is really done. CRUCIO!" she shouted. Harry felt the pain envelope him and burn down to his bones. At first, he refused to scream, but then heard his own voice ringing in his ears, and knew that that battle he had lost with himself.

The curse ended after what seemed like forever, and Bellatrix Lestrange stood there, a look of triumph on her face. He felt weak, and his head fell to the side. There was nothing else to do but to welcome the darkness that waited to consume him.

"I can't believe it," Hermione said in an awed voice. "I never thought this would happen."

"They shouldn't have left it up to Snape to save him!" Ron thundered. "I never trusted that greasy git anyway!"

"Ronald! You know that anything could have gone wrong and they wouldn't have been able to escape. Snape was the best choice to go after Harry."

"Lot of bloody good it did! Now they're both captured, and we'll never see Harry again!"

"Don't say that!" Hermione nearly screamed, tears beginning to streak down her face. Through the whole ordeal, Ron had never seen her cry. This was the first sign that she had given of her true grief. Without another word, she ran out of the room, and straight into Tonks.

"What's wrong Hermione?" Tonks asked, seeing the tears in Hermione's eyes.

"It's nothing," she lied. "Oh forget it! It's everything! I'm so worried about Harry!"

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tonks asked. Hermione nodded. "But let's talk somewhere more private." Tonks led the way to her room in a far corner of the house, where hardly anyone went.

"Now, tell me what's troubling you," Tonks urged.

"It's Harry. Everyime he gets in trouble, or kidnapped, or hurt, I worry about him. And sometimes, Ron shares my feelings about these things, but other times, he's so insensitive. I know he cares, but he does nothing to ease my fears. He's convinced that we will never see Harry again. I'm not ready to give up my hope of seeing him again. I know that I will see him again. I know that Professor Snape will help him escape. I KNOW it. It's just that no one else seems to share my point of view."

"I do. I know that Harry will survive. He's a survivor, and he has a knack for pulling through the toughest looking situations. And Professor Snape will help him. As mean and cruel as he may seem, he does keep his promises. He promised Dumbledore that he would save Harry, and he will do it. Even if it is the last thing he does."

"I know. I just needed to hear it from someone who felt the same as I do."

"I understand. And remember, anytime you need to talk to someone, I'm here. I know that there aren't many women around here who you can talk to. Just remember that I'm always eager to talk to someone."

"I will," Hermione said. She smiled, and left the room, drying her tears. As she headed to the kitchen, she bumped into Ron. "Look," he said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so negative. Please forgive me. I can't take this if you're mad at me. We need each other right now."

"I know. I accept your apology, Ronald. Now, let's go see what's in the kitchen. I haven't eaten in days and I'm starving."

* * *

Professor Snape was slouching against a wall several hours later, watching and waiting should something happen. He was lucky to be able to remain on his feet after what had just happened. He had been tortured himself immensely, after Potter had fainted. Of course, what could he expect? He started as the boy began to move. Potter slowly opened his eyes and looked around the cell. His eyes stopped on Professor Snape, leaning against the wall.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"You fainted."

"So they brought me back here until their next little torture session?" he asked, raising himself up slowly. Snape nodded, sneering. "Fine situation we're in," he commented coldly.

"Why do you have an attitude? It's not my fault we're here."

"If you had of told Albus Dumbledore of your situation at home, then you wouldn't have been there. Then the wards would not have fallen, you would not have been captured, and I would not be here to try and rescue you."

"So it's all my fault?"

"As usual."

"That's not fair you greasy git!" Harry growled. Snape's temper flared, and Harry could feel the anger radiating.

"I will not tolerate being talked to like this!"

"Really? What do you think you are going to do about it, Snivellus?" He did have a point, but Snape wasn't going to admit that.

"Shut up, Potter. Even behind bars I can do a considerable amount of damage to you."

"I'm quaking with fear," Harry shot back, pacing to a separate corner of the dungeon cell. He appeared to be in deep thought for a moment, before speaking again.

"We don't need to do this," he said. "We need to work together."

"How? As you can clearly see, we have no way to escape."

"I don't know how yet, but there has to be a way. We have to work together though. I don't like you, and I know that you hate me. But for the time being, maybe we should call a truce."

"A truce?"

"Yes. A truce. We need each other's help if we ever plan to make it out of here alive. It's too soon to give up. We still have life left in us, so there is still a chance."

Snape was silent, but when he spoke again, Harry was shocked at what he had to say. "That's probably the most sensible thing that I have ever heard you say."

Harry almost grinned, but caught himself in time. He loathed Snape, and hated his very existence. But he realized the necessity of their being a team, instead of against one another. Now they had only to find a way to escape.

The two occupied themselves in their own minds, trying to surmise a way to escape the dungeons. Their thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of death eaters, to bring them back to the 'torture circle,' as Harry had dubbed it. He had no idea that after this, he would have no more thoughts about escaping.

Please r/r, tell me what you think.


	8. Chapter 8: A Plan has Begun to Form in M...

Disclaimer: None of this is mine. I wish, but it's not.

Ah, I'm back. Tell you what; I was delighted at the reaction from the first couple of reviews on that cliffhanger. ;-) Sorry about that. But, after careful consideration, I decided that I like ya'll so much that I'm going to go ahead and update this one. How about it? Are you ready for another exciting chapter? Ready to find out what happens next? Hope so, cause I am. So sit back, enjoy. And don't forget to read and review.

By the way, so sorry about the short chapters. I have a hard time writing long ones. I'll try harder on this one. (Keep your fingers crossed). Also, does anyone know any good publishers out there? I am in the middle of writing a novel, so I would appreciate any help I could get from someone. (This has nothing to do with HP or anything, this one is mine.)

And for those of you who enjoyed the torture in my last story (To Wish One Could Forget, Chapter 19), ;) here's more. Hope you enjoy. (Hint: I brought the flesh-eating worm back)

New note: My computer crashed, so sorry. I had to recover this chapter (after a lot of work). So, just know that I didn't forget about all of you. So sorry.

Well, here goes nothing. Sorry for that little rambling spill, I'm just a little tired. 

Chapter 8: A Plan Has Begun to Form in my Mind

"NOOOOO!!!!!" a voice screamed into the dungeons of Voldemort's hideout. Harry dropped to the floor, face down. He had just been forced to suffer through some of his worst memories, while the death eater's laughed. He had seen Sirius die over and over again, like a broken record in his mind. He breathed evenly again as the potion wore off. Snape did know how to brew a mean potion.

As he lay on the floor of the dungeon, trying to regain his composure, Voldemort turned on Snape. "Ah, the traitor," he hissed quietly. "I haven't forgotten about you. Untie him." The death eaters did as commanded. Snape didn't move. "Stand, Severus, and welcome your pain."

Snape didn't move, and for that, he was hit with a blinding Cruciatus curse. The white hot pain consumed him, but he was good at concealing his pain after years of service to Voldemort. Only his eyes and his clenched teeth showed he was in agony. Anyone else would have thought he was having some sort of fit at the most.

"Stand, Severus," Voldemort commanded again, and with a wave of the wand, forced Snape to stand. It was as though his legs were being straightened on their own accord. He had no choice, and had to stand. Voldemort laughed, and the death eaters cackled with him. Snape spared a glance at Harry, and saw that the boy had his head raised, watching what was happening. Snape turned back toward Voldemort, standing now instead of being on his knees. He watched with apprehension as Voldemort started whirling his wand around, as if making a decision as to what spell he should use next. A small smile showed in the corner of his eyes as he made his decision. "Adlido!" he cried out, in an almost triumphant voice. Severus Snape felt as though his head were about to split open. The curse was almost as bad as the Cruciatus, in terms of pain. It did less permanent damage, though, and the sufferer was more aware of his surroundings afterwards. Voldemort did not want to drive his captives insane for the moment. He wanted them to be as aware as possible. The curse was released, and Severus found himself on his knees again. From his cloak, Voldemort produced a large dagger, much like the one Harry had been pricked with during the Third Task of the Triwizard tournament. Snape was retied to the pole he had previously been held to, but this time in a standing position. Voldemort handed the dagger to Lucius Malfoy, who stood on his right side. "Torture him Muggle-style," Voldemort commanded.

"Anything you wish, my lord," Lucius said, bowing low to the ground. He took the dagger and strode over to where Snape was struggling with his bindings. Lucius took the dagger, and cut into his arm. It wasn't very deep, but it bled freely and the incision hurt. Snape didn't yell out, or even really give an indication that he had been hurt. But he certainly felt hurt. Lucius cut again, this time across the stomach, and deeper, although not too deep. Snape hissed despite his best efforts to remain in control of his pain. The death eaters laughed at his pain, although some of the laughter was uneasy.

"Deeper, Lucius," Voldemort said. "Cut deeper. Make him suffer."

Lucius nodded, and proceeded to do as told. Harry screamed, "Stop it!"

Lucius paused, and the entire crowd turned to stare at Harry, who was attempting to stand on his feet. "What did you say, Potter?" Voldemort asked.

"I said stop! It's me you want to torture! So just leave him out of this."

"How wrong you are, Potter. Brave, but wrong. While I sincerely want to make you suffer, Severus here betrayed me, and must learn the price of betrayal. But, for now, I will leave Severus alone. You will regret interrupting me, Potter."

"Crucio!" Voldemort yelled, and the curse hit Harry full force. Harry didn't scream, but fell down upon the floor, and as the curse was released, he gasped for breath in his pain. That last one had hit him right in the chest, and had seemed to impair his breathing.

"I believe it's time for our special weapon," Voldemort hissed to someone over his shoulder. A tall, robed Death Eater stepped forward with a phial that had something in it. The phial itself was covered in a slender cloth that kept the contents hidden. Harry strained to see around Voldemort's fingers as he unveiled the glass, but he still could not see what was in the phial. Voldemort gave a nasty grin to Harry, who grimaced at the thought of what could possibly be in his enemy's hands.

Voldemort kneeled down to where Harry was on the floor. He turned the phial in his hands so that Harry could see what was inside. It was a rather grotesque looking worm that might have looked like any except that there was something different about it completely. It had a very visible mouth, and Harry had a horrible wrenching feeling as to what that mouth would be used for.

Voldemort said nothing A death eater took a knife from their own pocket, and sliced an incision in Harry's upper arm. Voldemort uncorked the phial and laid it near the open wound. The worm took the incentive and left his temporary home, finding Harry's warm flesh very appetizing. It traveled into the open wound, and began to eat away at Harry's very insides. It felt terrible, almost as bad as the Cruciatus in some ways, worse in others. It felt horribly dirty to have something crawling around in his skin, but it felt worse that it was eating him alive, from the inside out.

The worm ate flesh, nerve, and blood as it traveled up Harry's arm into his chest. The death eater's laughed once more at Harry's pain, although a few of them seemed a little uncomfortable watching on. Harry began to wonder if they would just let him be eaten completely alive. He almost wished it would, because then the whole thing would be over. Of course, it would be a most painful way to die, and Harry wanted it to be over quickly.

The worm continued to eat, traveling slowly in his chest cavity. As it reached to where his diaphragm was, the same death eater stepped out and cut the worm out in a quick motion. Just like that it was gone. The worm was covered in his blood, and the death eater set it back into the phial it had once been contained in, and set back into the darkness and out of site

That was the last memory Harry had of that day. After that, few know what happened. All of the death eaters saw him take a particularly nasty potion, which caused him to faint onto the floor. He and Severus Snape were taken back to their holding cell. Not an hour later, when Harry was just beginning to wake up, he was drug out again, chained to a wall, and beaten to within an inch of his life by Mr. Lestrange. More potions were shoved down his throat, and he drank them unwillingly. "You should be glad Mr. Potter, for now you won't be awake for your torture anymore," Voldemort said. "I think next time I'll just kill you."

Severus Snape saw when they took the boy out of the cell, and when they through him back in. He was in a terrible condition, and Snape knew he would not last any longer if he had to go through any of those things again. He had to think of a way out. If they killed Potter, all hope would be lost.

Snape watched the death eaters coming and going. He knew their schedule. They would change for shifts. But two of them, newbies named Stark and Beaumont, would leave temporarily to try and win a few hands of poker. They weren't too smart about it, as they would leave at the same time, leaving prisoners unguarded. Snape knew that would be the last chance for the both of them to escape. It would be their only chance.

Watching carefully, he noticed when the two went on shift, and stuck around for a few minutes to act as though they were actually keeping watch. Snape thought they would never leave But Snape looked asleep to them, and there was no way Potter would wake up. So, feeling secure, they left very quietly. Snape made sure they were completely gone, then went over to Harry. The boy didn't move at all, and he was barely breathing. Snape carefully picked him up, and carried him to the cell door. 'Concentrate,' he thought. He knew that sometimes, when a wizard or witch felt emotions enough, they could conjure wandless magic. Snape concentrated on his anger, and how frustrated he was. He reached out his hand, and a few sparks shot out at the lock holding the door in place. There was a hissing sound, and the lock melted off onto the floor. It made a noise that might have been heard by someone close by, but Snape doubted anyone had heard it.

He would have known his way out in the dark, and so it was easy to find an exit out. There were no Death eaters blocking the way. Voldemort was probably out doing his normal heinous deeds now. No one would be expecting them to make an escape.

Snape thought that he had to be dreaming. He made it to the door. He turned the doorknob with his hand, and miraculously it opened. He couldn't believe his luck. They hadn't even thought to lock the door just in case. Snape knew that his luck was bound to run out, so taking the boy in his arms, he ran across into the woods. He sincerely hoped that they got farther this time than last. He knew where the anti-appearation wards ended. It seemed such a long distance away, and he was so tired.

Somewhere inside, Snape found the will power to keep going. He was weary, his arms already ached from trying to drag the young boy through the prison where they had been kept, not to mention the fact that wandless magic always took effort to muster, especially after he had already been so weak.

Severus Snape decided to use his last burst of energy, and ran to the end of the wards. He could feel the magic end as he crossed to where he could appearate away. From down the hill he had just run, death eaters were opening the door and running out, searching for both he and the Potter boy. With what was left of his energy, he appearated them both to Grimmauld Place.

* * *

A faint knock was heard on the door. "Who is it, I wonder?" Molly Weasley asked, addressing the crowd eating at the table. Well, eating was an overstatement. Hardly anyone was actually eating anything. They weren't hungry in the least. The crowd looked tired and sad. They were all disappointed at the loss to which they had just suffered. Dumbledore looked especially haggard and old. Ron and Hermione sat across the table from each other, Hermione's eyes red from tears still. Tonks had been silent the entire day, and not really sociable. Molly Weasley looked considerably worried and tired, as though searching for something that would not come. They all had worries of their own, and yet each relating to the other. 

"I'll find out, Molly," Dumbledore said, and rose to answer the door. He had his wand out and ready, although since he was the secret keeper, he shouldn't have to. He opened it, and the first thing he saw was two long-lost souls, finally arriving home.

"Severus! Harry!" Dumbledore exclaimed in a mix of surprise, delight, and utter astonishment. The disheveled man standing in front of him didn't move for a moment, but when he did, he dropped the boy he had been carrying, and fell to the ground himself. "Severus!" Dumbledore shouted again, although this time with concern.

Well, not quite as short as some of the others. So sorry it took so long. I'll try to update again soon. If I don't within the week, MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! (yes I said it and I'll say it again MERRY CHRISTMAS!) Please r/r. 

Stark and Beaumont are names used from a Stephen King novel, "The Dark Half."


	9. Chapter 9: My Paradise

Disclaimer: None of this is mine.

Hi again. Guess what it is! Give up? I posted a new chapter earlier than I thought I would. Yeah me. Anyways, quite tired here, but very excited about Christmas, and am so happy I decided to bring myself down a notch and write a sort of depressing chapter. (Well, you'll see). So, glad that you all liked my last chapter. I tried to make it long, but it just got too boring when I did that, so I had to stick to a shorter version. I'll try my best to make this one longer, although I am never sure how that will work out.

Thank you all for the wonderful reviews last time. I would like to leave messages for you all, but I haven't the time. Sorry again about the cliffhangers, but I can't help it. I enjoy it too much.

Chapter 9: My Paradise

"Severus," a kind voice called into the dark expanse where Snape seemed almost to be waiting for something to happen. He had been in this dark but calming place every since he had arrived back at Grimmauld Place. It was the most relaxing place he had ever been, and even though it was just a dark expanse to him, it was the most wonderful place he could remember. Here, he was free. It was almost completely silent, free from all noise but the soft sound of violins in the background, and only recently the faint, familiar voice trying to call him away.

In Snape's paradise, there was only blissful nothing. No pain, no spying for either side, no one to get on his nerves, even. The place could only be described as beautiful. It was in a wooded area, the sunlight almost completely covered by the trees. There was green foliage all around, and a soft breeze that came through the treeline. Here, he was at peace, if not for the persistent voice calling his name. He wanted nothing more than to tell it to go away, and yet he found that he had no voice.

The voice became clearer, and his forest became more foggy, as though a mist were settling over it. It became brighter in his woods, and eventually the trees were lost in the shine of light. That was when Severus Snape opened his eyes again to the waiting world, his paradise gone, and in it's place the faces of those in the Hogwart's hospital wing.

* * *

Harry, meantime, was in a place all his own. He was sitting near a warm fire, as snow fell softly outside a window. He held a mug of warm cider in his hand, and the room smelled of cinnamon and pine needles. He turned and saw two figures standing near a Christmas tree. One was a woman with beautiful long hair, and the other a man, who looked remarkably like him, only older. Each of his parents were smiling happily, as if they were any other normal family in the world. The place was lit with candles, so he was in a wizarding home with his family, like he always should have been raised in. He was home.

He heard a voice in the room that belonged to neither of his parents, but he chose to ignore it. It was too distant to be concerned with. For now, all he wanted was to enjoy his time with his family. Family. How nice a word it was, and to say that he had one. He wanted so much to say something to his parents, but he found no words would form in his throat. Instead, they seemed to understand each other without speaking. His parents went over to where he was, reached around him with their arms, and pulled him into a warm embrace, where he would have liked to stay forever.

* * *

"I don't know when he'll wake up, Headmaster," Poppy said to Dumbledore, as they stood over Harry's bed. "Professor Snape was not as injured, so it was not as hard to awaken him. But Potter, his wounds run deeper than I can heal at the present time. He is very injured. The only way he will survive this is of his own will."

"He is a fighter, Poppy," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "He will pull through, as he always does." Somehow, though, he was not sure.

* * *

"I love you so much," his mother whispered into his ear as they family withdrew from their embrace. These were the first words anyone had spoken since his arrival. There was a knock on the door, and it opened to reveal a tall and handsome man standing in the doorway. It was Sirius. "Harry!" Sirius said in surprise. He strides over and gives Harry a brotherly hug. They are all together now: All the people Harry ever truly loved and considered family.

The time he spent there seemed an eternity, and yet it seemed seconds. They spoke often of times in school, and of the things they had all done together before Harry was born. He was told of adventures by the Marauders, and the conflicts the Order had had with Voldemort and his death eaters. But mostly, they spoke of happier times. One day, sitting with the three adults he admired in life, he asked them a simple question. "Can I stay here forever?"

His mother's face changed from a smile to a frown, and she looked thoughtful for a moment before anyone answered. "No, son, you can't," his father answered.

"But why? I'm happier here then I ever am down there."

"We know. And we also know that we wish you could stay here too."

"Then why not?"

"You still have a life to live, Harry," Sirius said. "Your friends are so worried about you. Not only that, but there is a job you must accomplish."

"What? The prophecy? Can't someone else kill him? Why me? Why is it always me?"

"It has to be someone," his mother said quietly.

"Where is this, anyway? Is it heaven?"

"Yes and no," James said. "This is your paradise. It is the place where you are happiest. It is only temporary. It will be gone once you return."

"Wait! So, are you all really here? Are you real?"

"Yes, Harry, we are real," Lily said. "We are only here temporarily for you. We are here to keep you company, so you are not alone and afraid while here. It is a terrible place to be alone in."

"How much longer do I get to stay?"

"You are leaving soon," Sirius said. "The time is coming when you will be needed again, and you must be prepared first."

"So I have to go."

"Yes," Lily said.

"Why do you have to leave me?"

"We are not leaving you, Harry," Lily said sadly. "We never left you. We are always there for you. In the times you thought you were alone, you never were. You are always under our watch."

"Do I come back here when I die?"

"I do not know. I don't know the future, Harry. None of us do."

"How do you know I will succeed in fulfilling the prophecy then?"

"We have faith in you," Sirius said. "You are a very powerful wizard. Never doubt yourself."

"Good-bye, son," James said, embracing his son.

"I love you," Lily said, hugging him next.

Sirius then came, giving another brotherly hug. "I do miss you," Sirius said. "You are so much like James."

Harry stepped back. He looked with admiring eyes at the three icons in his life. Slowly, the whole scene began to fade. He felt dizzy, and when he opened his weary eyes again, he was in Hogwart's infirmary. No one was around when he first glanced around. He turned his head over, and saw Snape sitting up two beds down from his. Snape looked at him in surprise. Harry closed his eyes slowly, and his only thought was "Merlin save me! It's like I can't escape from him!"

* * *

Please r/r. sorry so short. Next one will be longer. This one just gives you an idea. 


	10. Chapter 10: The Healing

Disclaimer: It all belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling

Please forgive the shortness of the latest chapter. It was terrible of me, I know, and probably some of you are a bit ill at that. Well, let's just say I'm trying to update sooner because I felt so guilty. Don't forget to R/r. (No rambling this time)

And I have to say this to kookyfaun3- this will be a mentor story about the pair. Thank you for the compliment. And as for quitting this story, as long as something terrible doesn't happen to me or a family member, I will continue this one. Promise.

So, here we go. Like I said earlier, please R/r.

Chapter 10: The Healing

Harry closed his eyes again, wanting to block out the hospital wing and everything about it, especially Snape, who stared at him with those beetle-black eyes. He could not feign sleep for long, though. He heard someone else enter the room, and out of curiosity, he opened his eyes to see Madame Pomfrey standing there, looking at him in a sad sort of way.

"Mr. Potter! You are finally awake!" the woman beamed. "You don't know how scared we were that you would leave us!"

"I'm not leaving yet," Harry croaked, giving a half-hearted smile. Madame Pomfrey didn't show any emotion as to his last comment, not sure whether or not his comment was a good thing. She instead turned to the table next to his bed, and fetched a light green potion that apparently had been waiting for him to take. "Swallow this, please," she said in her professional voice.

Harry attempted to raise his head, succeeding in only making himself ache more. "Oh, I am sorry about that," Poppy said. "I should have remembered how much pain you were in." So instead, she reached under the boy, lifted his head, and helped him to swallow the potion. "Try to stay awake, Mr. Potter. Dumbledore said that he wished to speak with you once you woke up." Harry nodded, but thought of how hard it would be to stay awake, being as his eyelids felt heavy, and sleep seemed to call to him from somewhere else. But he stubbornly refused to fall asleep.

"Could you help me sit up first?" he asked Madame Pomfrey before she had time to leave.

"Are you sure? It may be painful for you to move right now."

Harry nodded. "I'm sure. It will help me stay awake." Madame Pomfrey looked hesitant, but went over, readjusted pillows, and helped Harry scoot up in the bed so that he was sitting up. His eyes were still blurry, as his glasses were not on. Pomfrey, seeming to notice his squinting, handed him his glasses from the table nearby. He put them on his face slowly after first thanking her.

Pomfrey nodded, then turned and left the room. The silence was deafening, and Harry felt as though he should say something, but breathing itself hurt, and he didn't feel like putting forth the effort to talk to Snape. But then again, he did feel quite guilty. After all, Snape had risked everything to save his life. He turned his head slightly, although it was quite painful, and addressed Snape. "Thank you," he said simply. Snape looked surprised. But there was no time for a reply, for as soon as Harry's words had left his mouth, Dumbledore opened the doors to the hospital wing and walked in.

"Harry!" he greeted, smiling. "I'm so glad to see you awake! We were quite worried about you." Dumbledore's smile faded. "How are you feeling? Be honest."

Harry decided he would do as asked, and gave an honest answer. "I've been better. But it's not as bad as it could be."

"I wanted to talk to you to tell you how sorry I am. This whole thing was my fault. If I hadn't stuck you with your relatives, this whole thing may never have happened. I also should have listened more when you tried to tell me how it was to live there."

"It's not your fault. There was no way for you to know."

Harry looked closely, and saw pain wash over Dumbledore's face. "There is always a way to know what we desire. The only thing is, I was so set on the idea that you were safe with your relatives, I did not think to check and see if it really was the best place for you to be. And you were the one who had to pay for my mistake. You and Severus both," Dumbledore turned and acknowledged the Potion's Master. "I am so very sorry for both of your pain."

Harry was at a loss for words. He didn't know what to say. If you're honest with yourself, what do you say when someone has made that sort of dramatic confession to you? Instead, Harry decided it best to change the subject. "When may I see Hermione and Ron?"

"I'm afraid it will be a while. It is very tricky, keeping the two of you hidden from Voldemort and his crew. We risked a great deal to get you both here without anyone finding out, and to risk bringing more people to Hogwarts would risk being found. We cannot risk anyone noticing unusual activities here."

"Why were we brought here?"

"It is easier to treat you both here. After you are more recovered, I have rooms set aside for you to stay in until the start of term."

"Oh."

"I am sorry about that."

"How long do you think that will be?"

"Poppy," Dumbledore said, giving the mediwitch her cue to speak.

"Mr. Potter, the extent of your injuries is far. I'm afraid there are a great many potions you must take. It will take a long time to go through them all, because some of them cannot be used together. Also, your spine is apparently damaged. We must give you a restorative potion for the damaged nerve endings, and teach you to walk again."

"What?" Harry gasped.

"Have you not noticed?" Confusion was on her face. "Have you tried to move your legs?" Harry tried at that moment, and discovered that he couldn't. "It will be alright though. You needn't worry about moving for now. It will all come in time."

Harry sat back in the bed and sighed heavily, closing his eyes. "Harry?" Dumbledore asked cautiously. "Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine."

"Yes, you will. You have made it this far, you will make a full recover, and everything will go back to the way it should be."

Harry nodded. When his eyes had closed, the memories of his parents and Sirius came back. The timelessness of the place seemed overwhelming, and he suddenly felt curious to know how long it had been, and opened his eyes to ask the question. "How long have I been here?"

"About a week and a half. Why?" Poppy answered.

"It seemed so much longer, and yet so much shorter."

"You can leave now, Poppy," Dumbledore said. The sound of his voice left no room for protest, and she left as told. Dumbledore sat down on the bed between Harry and Severus. "Where were you, Harry?"

Harry closed his eyes again, bringing the memory closer. "Home," he whispered. "I was home, and I was happier than I have ever been." He opened his eyes and turned to Dumbledore.

"It was your paradise, was it not Harry?" Harry nodded, swallowing hard. "It is a place that waits for us all in the deepest reaches of our minds. It is the place we are truly happiest. For you, it was with your family, where they are safe and so are you." Dumbledore turned to Severus. "For you, it was a place of solace, where you had none of the worries you do in life." He smiled mysteriously. "For me, it is a field of lemon drops and other sugary sweets."

Harry couldn't help but to smile a little bit at the comment. "The point is, Harry, we all have this place. But I want you to remember something, no matter how happy that place was, there are things that are worth living for. There are pleasures in life that you cannot enjoy in your paradise, no matter how perfect it may have seemed. For instance, did you ever ride a broom there?"

Harry frowned, trying to remember. He shook his head. "I don't think I ever went outside."

"That's because paradise only takes one happy time in our lives, or one strong desire, and gives it to us."

"Is that what death is like?"

"No. Paradise is a place the living go to only. Death is different. It is difficult to explain, for I myself have never seen death."

"I think I understand, though. My parents told me of it."

"They were really there, Harry. Don't ever doubt it. They were with you. They are always with you. The ones we love are always with us. We carry them with us in our hearts, and they feel the love we have for them even beyond this world." Dumbledore rose from the bed. He addressed Snape. "Your paradise has to be one of the strangest one ever told to me," Dumbledore said. "I have never before heard of a paradise where one was alone in a dark place."

"It was, in my mind, pleasant," Snape said.

"Perhaps." Dumbledore turned, and with a swish of robes, was gone from the hospital wing. Harry's eyes, that had strained to stay open throughout the conversation with the Headmaster, now started to drop. He did not even have time to try and lie back down. His top eyelids seemed almost to collapse, and he was asleep in a matter of moments.

Unlike when he was unconscious, Harry's mind was now filled with torment. He saw terrible things, which he could not remember the second they were gone. At first, they were dreadful nightmares. Ones where people fell behind veils, spares were killed by ugly henchmen, and dungeons met nothing but cold and torture. These nightmares led from one to the other, quickly and relentlessly. But these nightmares did not last long, before other images began to find their way into Harry's mind. Images that were foreign to him, but images that someone else knew were there.

"Potter…" a voice called from a distant place. The name was repeated, this time closer. The voice sounded as though it were coming closer to him, as though the person from whom the voice came was walking toward him at a steady pace. "I will find you, Potter. You are never safe from me. I will find you, and kill you with my own wand. Try as you might to escape me, you will never succeed."

Images filled Harry's mind of people being tortured. At first, they seemed to be random witches, wizards, and even muggles. But after the first few images, they became familiar faces. Ron and his family. They were screaming out, and death eaters laughed, led by Voldemort. Hermione, her throat cut with a silver dagger, and her life's blood spread quickly onto the ground. His own fate, killed slowly by Voldemort himself.

Harry tried to wake up. He strained to pull himself from Voldemort's images. But try as he might, the harder he pulled away, the harder Voldemort kept him focused on the images in his mind. He couldn't bare to see them anymore. Voldemort turned his wand on Harry and yelled "Crucio!" Harry felt as though he fell hard onto something, and screamed out, his whole body protesting. The curse lasted forever. As it ended, he became aware of someone shaking him, "Potter!" He recognized that voice. From the place where Voldemort tortured him in his own mind, he could hear a voice calling to him.

"Save me," he called. But whoever it was, he still could not see them. He was stuck in his own mind, still a prisoner of Voldemort.

"No one can save you," the voice hissed in his ear. His scar flamed against his head, splitting his skull into a million pieces.

"Potter!" the voice called, louder this time. Harry focused on the voice, trying to block out the scene around him. He pulled it closer to him, focusing only on the voice, and the hospital wing. The shaking became rougher, and more real. He felt more animate now, more alive then his dream had felt, although his dream had felt considerably real. Dream faded to reality, and when he opened his eyes, Snape was in front of him, trying to awaken him.

Snape stopped shaking him once his eyes opened. And oh his eyes! They were tired, and looked tortured and scared, like those of a deer being hunted, and old, like they had seen too much before his time. "Potter?" he questioned.

"He found me," was all Harry could say. He realized he was on the floor next to his bed, and guessed that he must have fallen off during his dream encounter with Voldemort. Snape was kneeling in front of him, dressed in his customary black robe. Harry guessed that he had slept through the night and into the next morning.

"Get up," Snape said, pulling Harry onto his feet. Harry tried, but fell, his legs useless for now. He shook like a leaf in the autumn wind. It had been so real!

Snape gave a huge sigh when he realized that Harry couldn't move at all on his own. He picked him up and set him back on the bed. Harry didn't want to ever close his eyes again. He didn't ever want to have to deal with anything like that ever!

Snape left, and when he returned moments later, he had Madame Pomfrey with him. "Drink these, dear," she said, handing him three bottles of potions. He obliged. The fourth she handed to him after, and he was hesitant about drinking it. He recognized it. Dreamless sleep. But did dreamless mean that Voldemort could be kept out? He didn't know.

"Go on," she insisted.

"But…"

"What you need now is sleep. Go on, now." Harry had no choice. He had the sinking feeling he would be force-fed if he did not comply. Harry's worry had been waster, for when he fell asleep this time, no dreams found him, and he rested comfortably.

* * *

Next chapter, Harry must learn to walk again. (Wow, I think this was my longest chapter ever!! Anyone surprised?) 


	11. Chapter 11: Baby Steps

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Well, I just uploaded, chapter 10, and am starting chapter 11. (Of course, I have no idea when I will finish this chapter.)

So, here we go with the part of the story based on Harry recovering from his torture. This chapter also deals with the Durselys. So, enjoy it more than Harry will.

Hardly anyone reviewed the last chapter, so please read/review this time. I need to know what everyone thinks.

Chapter 11: Baby Steps

"Mr. Dursley," Dumbledore said quietly as he entered the room where the three family members were being kept. "The time has come for you to be tried for your crimes."

"What crime?" Dursley asked indignantly. All of the time he had been locked in that room, with little privileges, and unable to return to the muggle world, his anger at the wizards had boiled over. They fed them, and allowed them bathroom privileges, but the Dursleys seemed to be held prisoner. Vernon Dursley may have been a loud mouth to his captors, but he did not care to fight them. He knew what a losing battle it would be.

"You know the answer to that," Moody growled, appearing from behind Dumbledore.

"Come with us quietly, or we will hex you," Lupin said, appearing from the other side. The Dursleys quietly obliged, not wanting to anger the wizards. They followed Dumbledore to a large room in the building where they were being kept. The room contained many of the Order members, anxiously waiting to convict the Dursleys of mistreating Harry. They already knew their verdict; they just wanted to go through the formalities of a trial to say that justice was served.

Kingsley Shacklebolt stood in front of the rest of the room, as if to act the part of bailiff, making sure everything ran smoothly. Dumbledore, as leader of the Order, was the one who would act as the judge. The Dursleys were escorted to three chairs waiting for them, and sat down. "Don't I get a lawyer?" Vernon had nerve to ask.

"No," Shacklebolt answered. "You will act as the attorney in your family's defense. Not that there is one," he added quietly.

"Let us begin, then," Dumbledore said. "Vernon Dursley, you are being tried for the mistreatment of Harry Potter. Petunia and Dudley Dursley, you are being charged with being accessories to the crime. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty!" Dursley said.

Tonks rose from his chair, and strode over in front of the family. "Vernon Dursley, is it not true that while your nephew was home from vacation this summer, you beat him into unconsciousness? Then left him alone at home?"

"I…" Vernon stammered. "What if I did? He deserved it. He always caused trouble. It's his fault bad things kept happening."

"That is your excuse?!" Lupin shouted from a place not far away. The look in his eyes was one that would kill.

"Do I need another?"

"Well," Tonks interrupted. "That's all the proof we need here." She turned to Petunia. "And you. He is your own flesh and blood. And while it may not have been you who stuck the boy, you did nothing to stop it, and nothing to help after. You are sickening. What is your excuse?"

"He may be my sister's son, but I loath him as much as I did her if not more. Why should I help him? All I've ever done for that ungrateful brat is feed him and look after him. I didn't want him as a responsibility. He should have gone somewhere else, not to my home." The whole room was tense with anger and astonishment.

"You, Dudley Dursley," Tonks said, "are just disgusting. You yourself are an accessory, just as much as your mother is. Anything you wish to say?"

"N...no," he stammered, terrified of all the wizards surrounding him.

"Now for your punishment," Dumbledore said.

"Wait! No verdict?" Vernon yelled.

"We already knew our decision," he responded calmly. "This whole trial was only a formality. We are civilized enough to give you a fair trial."

"Fair!"

"We gave you a chance to explain your actions, and you did. And just as we thought, you were guilty. Now, Vernon and Petunia, what we are going to do is this: we will frame you for murder."

"What!" the three shouted. "But he's alive," Vernon said.

"I'm afraid you're wrong, there," Dumbledore said sadly. "Harry Potter died as a result from his injuries this morning. Therefore, you are murderers."

"You can't do that!"

"Oh, yes we can," Lupin said.

Dumbledore continued. "What we are going to do is leave blood and hair at your home…"

"Our home was destroyed," Petunia said.

"We reconstructed it. It was drawing far too much attention. We will leave an anonymous tip with the muggle authorities. They will find evidence of his murder. Now, you may not serve full time because of insufficient evidence, but you will serve time in prison. And trust me, prisoners do not take well to child abusers."

"We will tell them!" Petunia threatened.

"They'll think you're mad!" Lupin said. "We don't exist to the rest of the world, remember? You tell them that, and they'll lock you up in the asylum. Either way, you will pay for killing Harry."

"What about me?" Dudley voiced.

"You will go to a boy's home," Dumbledore said. "There, you will be forced to live in a modest lifestyle. After all, your Aunt Marge will not take you, we'll see to that. You will be reformed to be a better citizen. There may be a chance for you yet. Court adjourned."

&

"Drink this," Poppy told the boy. He took it quickly. This potion was a new one to him. He had just completed the strength potions and the blood potion, now he was taking one to help him be able to walk again.

"Now, Professor Snape is coming in here, and I want him to help you learn to walk again."

"Why him?"

"Because he is the only one available at the current time, is why," she said calmly. "I will fetch him now."

Harry sat back and sighed. He wanted to be helped by anyone but Snape at the moment. The man still resented him. It had been five days since he had awoken, and the term would start fairly soon, he was certain, even though he knew not the exact date. He was trying to figure it out when the hospital wing doors open and a very disgruntled looking Snape walked in.

"Well," Snape said. "Stand up, boy!"

Harry hesitated for a moment, then tried to do as asked. He moved the covers off, and attempted to swing his legs over the bed. It was very hard to do in his condition, and he had to move his legs with his hands in the end. His feet fell to the side as though tossed like a rag doll. He couldn't feel them, really. There was only a tingling sensation as the potion began to work. Harry moved his body a little more with his arms, and his feet found the floor. The second he let go, he fell. Snape issued a heavy sigh and walked over to help him up.

The boy hated holding on to his worst professor, and the only though that kept him from lashing out was the fact that his life had been saved by the man. Snape helped him to balance upright, which was difficult to do. "I don't think I can walk yet," Harry said.

"We have to keep you moving after you ingest the potion, otherwise it will not work properly." He turned himself and the boy in the opposite direction, and started to move. Harry tried to move his feet but it didn't work. "One step at a time," Pomfrey said, watching from a distance away. "You have to focus."

Harry tried, but as he willed himself to walk, he realized his legs were not going to listen to him. They dragged on the floor as Snape tried to help him. The tingling sensation eventually faded, and he felt as he had before. "Do you just feel numb again?" Pomfrey asked. Harry just nodded.

Snape pulled him back to his bed, and he sat up, trying hard not to feel too sorry for himself. "It will take a lot of work, but we will have you walking before term begins," she said. "You need to take this potion twice a day. Once in the morning, and again in the evening. During your evening consumption, we will try to get you to walk."

Harry listened, but though he heard the optimism in her voice, he felt he would not walk again on his own.

Two days later, after much practice, he still couldn't move on his own. It was time for his morning dosage, and he sat resigned in the hospital bed. Poppy left him alone, and he tried to figure out what to do. He decided that the only thing he could do was to try and walk on his own. He made up his mind then that he would work independently to get his legs functioning normally.

He swung his legs from the bed, and stood up. He never let go of the bed, knowing he would fall the second he did. His legs still tingled with small sensations, as feeling was restored partially to them. He used the bed, and dragged himself forward. He still could not feel anything, though, and try as he might, his fight to walk failed. Harry let go of the bed and balanced on his numb feet for a few seconds. He could feel himself beginning to fall. He tried to catch himself, but was not quick enough. He landed with a thud face down on the floor.

Professor Snape heard the loud crash and came running into the room, only to see Harry pushing himself up with his arms. "What did you do this time, Potter?" he sneered. Harry didn't answer. Before Snape could even make it over to him, he was halfway up. Professor Snape stopped a few feet away, and watched as the boy pulled himself up using the foot of the bed. After he was standing again, Snape took him by the arm and led him back to the bed. "Don't try that again on your own."

Still Harry said nothing to his professor. He only sat on the bed, and watched as the Professor left the room. The night session approached where he was supposed to learn to walk, and Harry did not feel like dealing with Professor Snape that evening. He was dwelling how much he loathed learning to walk when a figure walked in that the boy recognized immediately; Remus Lupin. He walked into the hospital wing, and finally stopped near the foot of Harry's bed. He smiled in a tired manner but happy manner. "You look much better than when I last saw you."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said.

"I thought I would give Professor Snape an evening off and assist you with the walking."

Harry didn't want anyone to see him at his weakest, but he would have rather had Lupin with him than Snape any day of the week. They started the same as he always did, with him consuming the potion and trying to walk him around the room. But this time, something was different. Instead of his legs just tingling slightly, and not moving any, they started to feel normal, and by the end of the evening, he had moved them slightly. The potion began to wear off, though, and he found that he could not move his legs anymore, although the tingling did not fade this time.

"Were you only here for today?" Harry asked.

Remus nodded. "I have work to do, and the full moon is in a week. It would not be safe if I were to stay here. I will see you again soon, though."

Harry nodded reluctantly, and Remus left the room. Harry sat back in the bed, wishing that he could visit with the rest of his friends, if only for a moment. He wanted to make sure that they were safe, and that Voldemort and his lot had not found them. The dreams had worried him greatly, and he had the uneasy feeling that it would truly happen.

When the next morning came, Harry once again tried to walk on his own. At first, he felt like giving up, since all that happened was that he very nearly fell again. But determination set in, and he knew he could not give up. He did not want to stay in that bed for any longer. With the thought of being confined to the hospital bed for any longer, he tried harder to walk.

He let go of the bed post, and instead of concentrating on walking, he concentrated on what he wanted. What he wanted was to be able to see his friends safe again. He wanted to keep Voldemort away. He wanted to play Quidditch again. He wanted…

And he found that he had moved on his own. His legs had carried him almost to the bed across the way from his. He had walked on his own without much difficulty at all. He decided that if he could do it then, he kept going. He kept it up until he had reached the opposite wall. He was very pleased with himself, and found that a silly yet triumphant grin had found its way onto his face. A cough from the other end of the room caught his attention, and he looked over to see Professor Snape standing in the doorway.

"You managed that by yourself?" Snape asked with an eyebrow raised. Harry nodded, the smile now faded from his face. Harry would have said that Snape almost looked impressed, but that faint looked vanished as Snape demanded he make his way back to his bed. Harry obliged, finding he was willing to walk anywhere to practice.

After Harry had made it back to the bed, Snape left, not saying another word. Harry was a bit confused. Later that afternoon, Poppy Pomfrey walked into the hospital wing, caring a long wooden stick. She handed it to Harry, saying, "Professor Snape told me to give you this. He said that the way you were improving, you would need it soon." Without waiting for Harry to say anything, she left the room.

Harry turned the cane over in his hands, examining it carefully. It seemed to be made of Oak wood, and had the image of a Phoenix carved on the top of it. It was sturdy and the wood was smooth. Smiling, Harry thought that he couldn't wait until he could use his cane to walk again.


	12. Chapter 12: The Potions Master, Part I

Disclaimer: All belongs to J.K. Rowling

Hi again, guys. I am so sorry it has taken so long. A lot of stuff has been coming up lately, and it has hindered my updating this story. I'll try to do better. I haven't been getting many reviews lately.  O well. I'm hoping I can keep you all interested in this story. Truth be told, I have no idea where this is going.

I want to tell you that it may be near impossible for me to update sometimes. I'm taking an AP course, and so my time is limited lately.

So, let's just go on and get this chapter written, shall we? It may be a little short because of lack of time, but bear with me please. And please don't forget to read/review. PLEASE?!

Chapter 12: The Potions Master, Part I

Snape walked in from the hospital wing. He had been surprised to see that the Potter boy had managed to walk on his own. It was an accomplishment for anyone, he had to admit. The boy had the will to get things done when he wanted to. Snape was almost glad for him. Almost. He still could not seem to get over the feelings of hatred he had grown accustomed to over the past six years of seeing the boy. It was very easy to hate a Potter, especially the son of James Potter. Still, even though the boy resembled his father, they were quite different. Harry Potter had actually trusted Snape. James never would have trusted the man for any reason. And also, the boy seemed to lack the arrogance that Snape once thought he possessed.

As Snape thought about Harry Potter and his treatment toward him through the years, he began to feel guilty. That was quite amazing. Snape never felt guilty. Watching hundreds of muggles being tortured and killed may have made Snape feel uneasy, but he never felt guilty for playing a part in their deaths. But guilt for treatment of a boy? That was quite an amazing emotion for Snape to feel.

As Snape paced his office, waiting for a potion to finish, he spied something in the corner. It was a long peace of oak wood, finely carved with the engraving of a phoenix on it. It was a walking cane. How ironic that he should notice that now, when all other times it sat in his office as an ignored relic. A house elf had found the cane in his house, and Snape never knew where it had come from. Something had been entrancing about the cane, and he decided to keep it instead of discard it, as he normally did with worthless treasures he might find. The cane had stayed in the house for many years, ignored and collecting dust in the corner of a rarely-used room. Then, one day, as he was unpacking his things at the beginning of the new term, he saw it lying in the bottom of the bag. He could not understand how it had gotten into the bag. After all, the house elves were not allowed to touch his luggage- Snape knew they were bound to break something- and no one else was ever in his home. No one except Albus Dumbledore.

Had Snape been the type of person to talk aloud when reasoning things out, he might have said "Ah ha!" As it is, he merely said it in his mind. Albus Dumbledore. He might have known. After all, Dumbledore always had loved phoenixes. Of course, the revelation about Dumbledore may have roused some suspicions, but it did not answer all of his questions. He took the cane in his hands. The wood felt slightly warm to the touch, although it had been sitting in Snape's cold office now for nearly six years. 'Give it to the boy,' he thought. After all, he had no use for it. At that precise moment, there was a soft knock on the door. "Enter," Snape commanded.

"I came for the potion," Poppy said, standing in the doorway of the office.

Snape nodded, and retrieved it from the cauldron, placing the liquid carefully into a phial and giving it to her. "Also, Madame Pomfrey, would you kindly give this to Mr. Potter," he said, handing her the cane he had been holding. Poppy looked curious, but said nothing and left the room. 'There,' Snape thought that he had done enough good deeds to last him lifetime.

* * *

Snape had no idea what he was going to do now. After all, he had been revealed as a traitor to the Dark Lord. Everyone would be trying to track him down now. He was as bad off as that mutt, Sirius had been, trapped in a safe place for his own protection. Snape hated to think of it as being "protected." His whole life, nearly, had been spent unprotected, and he had survived on his own. He wasn't sure how he could survive now, though. 

Snape sat behind the cedar desk that he spent so many late nights at, pondering his situation. In all actuality, he should have been working on some potions for the hospital wing, but there was already one that needed brewing for several more hours, so he reasoned that he could afford to take a break.

Snape's mind drifted to the boy whom he had saved. Was he really so important to the fate of the wizarding world? It seemed strange to think that one boy could affect the fate of them all. Snape found himself pitying in the boy, and the fate that must find him during the course of his life.

After a while of reflecting in his office, Snape decided to see how the boy was doing. Snape strode through the school hallways in the direction of the hospital wing. He turned a corner, and bumped into something. Looking down, he saw that it was Potter himself, sitting back now, the cane nearby. "Sorry, Professor." Snape gritted his teeth, said nothing, and reached a hand down to help the boy up. A little surprised to see an offer of help, Harry took the hand and was pulled up.

"Try to watch where you're going, Potter," his professor grumbled. "Should you be out of the hospital wing right now?"

"Umm…" Harry looked guilty.

"So I take it Madame Pomfrey doesn't know where you are." No answer. Snape grabbed the boy's arm, and led him back down to the hospital wing.

"Honestly, I don't need somebody watching me all the time. I am perfectly capable of getting around on my own."

"Still, you just gained your walking abilities again. I think it would be prudent for you to stay under Madame Pomfrey's close observation."

"Figures."

"Afterwards, the Headmaster informed me that you are to stay under my supervision for the remainder of the summer."

"Oh." Harry still wasn't sure if that would be such a good idea. True, the man had saved his life, and with great personal risk. But Harry still had this horrible feeling any time he was around the man. Harry still felt that he was sincerely disliked by the man. And Harry didn't blame him.

* * *

That's all I have time for for now. Sorry. Please don't forget to r/r. Next chapter, we see Isabella Snape, and learn more of his past life, before he became a spy! :) 


	13. Chapter 13: The Potions Master, Part II

Disclaimer: None of it is mine. All the credit belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Well, sorry it takes so long.  I really have tried to update sooner, it's just very hard to do. Thank you to those of you who reviewed. So sorry about the length of the last chapter. This one will be much longer, I promise. It is has to be to get this part of the story out. For those of you who read my previous story "To Wish One Could Forget," Isabella Snape is back. The story of her and our dear Potions master may have changed, but she is still the love of Severus' life.

So, sit back, and enjoy the new chapter I have made for those of you who love romance. (And for those of you who don't, don't worry, there's betrayal and action in it to, so just hold on." Enjoy! And don't forget, as always, to read and review after reading. (Your feedback helps me to write my story to your desires, so please, click that little button at the bottom of the page, and just write a few words to let me know what you think. Okay?)

I think I'm going to try a new writing style for this one. Tell me what you think.

Chapter 13: The Potions Master: Part II

Something that many people seem to forget is that dreams are not only the fiction that our mind, but some are also memories. Ask Harry Potter, who often did not wish to sleep for fear that when his eyes closed and his body slept, his mind would make him relive the deaths of Cedric Diggory and his dear godfather, Sirius. Snape had a similar problem, although not as often. Sometimes, when he had had an unusually pleasant day, he would have dreams of the happiest time in his life, and then wake up all the more sad than when he had fallen asleep.

One may wonder: Well, what does Snape dream about? And to be told the truth, that is a most wonderful question. No one can know for sure the exact dreams that he had; not unless you yourself know Occlumency, and can intrude a human mind. But a few people know when Snape, yes even Professor Severus Snape, was happy. It was a long time ago, and yet not so long. To Harry, it would be considered a lifetime ago, although to someone older, just a few short years.

It was over twenty years ago that he first set sight on those beautiful, ocean-blue eyes. They seemed as bright as a morning sky, and as crystal blue as the ocean. She was of medium height, and the clothes she wore accentuated her figure in a very complimentary fashion. She was wearing a dark blue dress, that went below her knees. Strange for a witch to be wearing a dress in a wizarding village, but this woman could have worn anything and gotten away with it. Her smile lit up the entire room. Her hair fell on her shoulders in waves and curls of dark brown. And the moment Severus saw her, he was in love.

Severus Snape was one of those people who tried to play himself off as tough in front of people, but when it came to approaching girls, he was very nervous. His palms became sweaty, and he often lost his voice. It never mattered who the girl was, he would completely freeze up. But for some reason, when he saw this girl, he felt courageous, like he could take on the world. He strode up to her, thinking that if he moved too slow, he would lose her. Her head turned slightly as he came near, but she said nothing, only silently seemed to look him over.

"Hello," he began. 'Great, Severus, now what?' his voice chided.

"Hello," she answered. Her voice seemed to sing that one simple word. Her voice was the loveliest he had ever heard, and it echoed sweetly in his ears. Her voice carried a slight accent that was not of the United Kingdom, but it was not distinguishable as to where she was from, as it was so faint.

"I couldn't help but to notice you across the room," he said honestly. "You are very beautiful." Even he was surprised at his audacity.

"Thank you," she blushed, turning slightly. "Who are you?"

"I'm Severus Snape. May I have your name?"

The girl seemed to hesitate, then said, "Isabella Baio."

"You're Italian, then?"

"Yes, originally. I have lived in England for the past year and a half, but I do originally come from Italy. This is my first time visiting Hogsmead, though."

"Would you like a tour?"

Isabella looked at him carefully, as though not sure what to think of him. "I would enjoy that very much," she said, her face lighting up with a smile. Snape extended his arm, and she took it, as though it were long ago, where a woman often walked arm in arm with an escort. Severus could not help but to feel comfortable with her arm wrapped around his. It was not often a woman showed interest in him.

They walked around the entire town, talking about their lives. With Isabella, he felt he could be completely honest, even though he had just met her. He told her of his home life, a subject which his closest friends did not even know many details about. He also learned a great deal about hers. What he didn't tell her was of the job he had committed himself to lately.

"You should like to see me again, yes?" she asked, as he walked her back to the place she was staying that evening.

"Umm, yes," he said.

"Then tomorrow, at noon, you come and pick me up, and we have lunch together. Si?"

"Alright. I'll see you then." And as he walked away, Severus felt that he could walk on air. Suddenly, a sharp searing pain shot out of his arm, and he knew that he had to leave. Appearating to a small field not far from a muggle village, he saw other death eaters who had already arrived. They stood in a small circle, waiting to receive their instructions. Snape looked around, but didn't recognize the shoes that his father normally wear. (Shoes were the only distinguishing marks on any death eater.)

"My loyal followers!" the familiar voice hissed to the crowd of death eaters, and all heads turned to where Voldemort stood waiting for them. "How pleasant of you to join me for a little fun. You see, there are muggle loving witches and wizards living in this village. I want them dead! Lord Voldemort will show those fools what happens when they chose sides against him! Now, go!"

There was a large murmur of agreement and evil glee as the death eaters strode in their great number into the village. Over the next two hours, the small muggle village was destroyed; the death eaters not only killed every last muggle, they took anything that appeared to be of value, then burned the rest to the ground, and sent the dark mark up above the destroyed village. The only people left were now sitting in the middle of the ring of death eaters. In that group was a family, a mother, father, and two children who appeared to be about the ages of seven and twelve. Along side were two wizards and another witch. The whole group consisted of what Voldemort considered to be "muggle lovers". Snape recognized two of them as fellow classmates. Behind his mask, though, they could not recognize him.

The witches and wizards were tortured and killed according to their "crimes". Snape actually enjoyed this part: the killing. Voldemort was also pleased at the creative poisons and potions Snape came up with to torture the captives. And Snape was quite pleased with his position. A short time ago he had joined the ranks of the death eaters, and already he was among the Dark Lord's most trusted followers.

After the raid, Snape returned to his lonely and large home at Snape manor. His parents were probably already asleep. Thinking of getting a late meal, Snape entered into the kitchen to find something, rather than summoning a noisy and bumbling house elf. Those filthy creatures never seemed to know when it was a good idea to be quiet.

Snape pushed the kitchen door open, and stopped dead in his tracks. For there, standing in front of him, was his own father, with blood dripping from his hands onto the floor. Not far away lay a knife, covered in blood. The blood had the look as though it were beginning to dry, but Snape's father just stood there, eyes blank and confused. His head slowly turned in Severus's direction. Seeming to snap out of whatever reverie he had been in, he turned to his son and said, "You clean it up!" then stormed out of the room. Severus strode farther into the room, and looked around. There, long dead on the floor, was his mother. Her glazed eyes stared into his, although she did not see him. Snape did not hear the scream that escaped from his own lips. Scooping the knife up that lay on the floor, he ran after his father.

Snape Senior, seeing that his own son was heading toward her, turned and ran. Severus was quicker though, and when he had caught up with him, stabbed his father in the heart. As his father sank onto the floor, Severus had one question. "Why? She was the only person who ever loved me."

"I was ordered to!" Snape senior gasped. "The Dark Lord commanded her death, and I obeyed."

"But why?"

"She was a traitor, Severus. But you wouldn't understand my reasoning. It was…for…honor." And with that, Severus's father died. Severus sank down onto his knees near his dead father. Was that really it? Had Voldemort commanded his mother's death without telling him? Was Voldemort so paranoid that a small, weak woman would be a threat to him? Severus buried his face in his hands and sobbed. There were no real tears, but the emotion was real.

Nearly an hour later, Snape climbed the stairs to his mother's study. There she kept anything that was important that she didn't want destroyed. There was a blocking charm on that room to keep her husband out when he become angry. Oftentimes she would sleep in that room, to avoid him trying to beat her as she slept. Snape went to the desk, and pulled open the desk drawer. Sitting on top was a letter addressed to him. He opened the envelope, and read the letter contained inside:

_My Dear Severus,_

_I fear for my life, and so I write you this letter, in case I cannot tell you these things myself._

_Not long ago, soon after you joined the ranks of the death eaters, I joined the ranks of a secret organization aimed at defeating Voldemort. Your father must never know, for he is so involved in the works of his "Dark Lord." But you, my son, it is not too late for you. Your heart is not as black as his. _

_I have worked to put your father away. Maybe then I could talk to you and try to win you over. But I fear your father will kill me first. I think that it has been discovered what I do in my spare time. I know that Voldemort will want me dead soon._

_Should you decide that you do not really want to aid in the death of innocence, head my words: You can do so much good for the light side. You are skilled, my Severus. Do not let false dreams of power and glory get to your head. It is all lies. You may be Voldemort's favorite now, but it will not last. His favor changes with the wind._

_Come to my side, my dear Severus. Your father is just like the rest of them. Do you really want to spend your life in the company of those so like the father you have hated?_

_Should you make the decision to change sides, you know who to contact. I have always talked of this person in favor. I will not write his name, for a precaution, in case this letter is found by someone other than you. Take this note to him, and he will trust you. I speak often of you, and he knows who you are. _

_Remember, my son, that I always will love you, just as mothers do. Forgive my deceiving you, but there was no other way. Do not let your father know of anything I have written to you. _

_In Love,_

_Stephanie Snape._

Snape put down the letter in shock. He couldn't believe it. Twice more he read through, but the words stayed the same. His mother had been on the opposite side. Was it really so much better there? Should he stay on the side he was on, or follow the advice of his mother, who had been the one truly honest and loving person in his life?

* * *

a/n: well, that's all for now. I wanted to get this chapter out to you asap. The next chapter, The Potions Master: Part III, will tell what happens next, and explain more about Isabella Snape. Please R/r. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! 


	14. Chapter 14: The Potions Master, Part II

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Well, how's it going? Haven't updated in forever, and I am so sorry about that. (School is so demanding!) I am trying to finish this part about Snape. Don't know how long it will be, but it should be longer than most of my chapters.

In this chapter: We will see how Severus became a spy, and what happened to turn him back into such a heartless prick. (Excuse the term.) After this, I may just combine all three parts into one large chapter.

And to one of the reviewer's who obviously jumped the gun when reading my story and wrote a nasty review (I don't mean critical, I just mean very rude) if you don't like it, don't read it. But this isn't some perverse story. I don't write slash or any of the weird stuff you were obviously talking about. So get off it!

Please don't forget to read/review! And just in case you're interested, I have created a discussion group. It's listed on my homepage. I would enjoy people coming to the site and trying it out.

Chapter 14: The Potions Master: Part III

Severus stood at the gravesite, one of the few attending his mother's funeral. Few people seemed to know her or actually even care about her, since she had rarely left the house. He knew most of those in the crowd, except for two people: a woman, with a witch's hat pulled over her eyes and hair so he could not clearly see her face, and a man who looked as though he had been pulled off of the street. Something seemed to pull him in their direction, but he didn't know what it was. He decided that after the funeral, he would seek them out to speak with them. "In nomenus patrus, filius, aspiritus sontus, Amen." The priest walked away from the gravesite after throwing in the handful of dirt on the coffin. Three wizards lifted the mound of dirt, and placed it carefully over the hole, sealing it up from view, then walked away. The small crowd began to disperse, and Severus made his way to the strangers. They were standing separately from each other, although not too far away.

"I'm afraid I don't know either of you," Severus began.

"I believe you do," the man said. "Would you like to have a cup of tea with us?"

Severus studied the man closely. He tried to read his eyes for honesty, but saw nothing but friendliness extended toward him. "Yes," he finally answered. The man turned and walked toward the boarding house, the girl following closely behind. Severus hesitated for a moment, and then followed behind them. The man led the way to the boarding house, and after nodding to the landlady, went into the back room, locked away from everyone else. He muttered a small spell, and then turned to Severus and said, "No one can hear what we are saying now."

Severus was taken back, to say the least. Shouldn't he be worried about this stranger who wanted to speak with him? And yet, there was something friendly in those eyes. And those eyes seemed so much older than the man to whom they belonged.

"Ah, and just in time, too," the ragged man said, looking at the watch on his arm. And in front of Snape's eyes, the man grew taller, sprouted a large white beard, and turned into Albus Dumbledore. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his wand and a pair of half-mooned shaped spectacles. He placed the glasses on his face, and transfigured his clothes to look more wizard-like, instead of the filthy bum appearance.

"Dumbledore?" Snape breathed.

"Ah yes. I trust your mother told you that I would want to speak with you?"

"Then who are you?" he questioned, addressing the woman in the corner, whom he had almost forgotten about.

The woman reached up, and pulled off her hat. Snape didn't make a sound, although he was quite shocked to see who it was. "Isabella?"

The woman nodded. "I was worried when you didn't arrive the next day to meet me. Then I learned of your parents' deaths. I had to see you again. When I told Dumbledore, he told me I could come with him to meet with you."

"How do you two know each other?"

"We will get to that in a moment, Severus," Dumbledore said. "Until then, won't you sit down? We have much to discuss."

Severus obediently took the chair closest to him at a small round table. Dumbledore and Isabella followed suit, with Isabella sitting in the chair closest to him. "What do you want?" Severus asked in a most undiplomatic matter.

"The death of your mother is a tragedy, to you and too many other people. Although you couldn't tell it by the funeral attendance, many people knew and loved your mother."

"And just why weren't they at the funeral, then?"

"It was far too risky. As far as everyone knows, your mother hardly left the house, and few people knew her."

"Then what is your relation to her, and how is she possible known and loved by many people."

"I will tell you, but first I want you to answer a question for me: What is your stance?"

"Excuse me?"

"How do you fit into this war? Are you a supporter of Voldemort? Or do you stand against him?"

Severus fell quiet. Where did he stand? He had thought that he fought for Voldemort, but the Dark Lord had killed his mother, who had done nothing against anyone. All of the innocent people killed. True, he enjoyed being a favorite of someone important like Voldemort, and he liked the idea of pure-blood supremacy, but did that really mean killing so many people?

"I don't know anymore," he answered quietly.

"Severus, you know in your heart that what Voldemort is doing is wrong. He kills so many innocent people; people who have never done him any harm. And for what? Do you really wish to spend your life being an accomplice to this malice? As long as you work for him, you will not have real purpose in life. He uses you to carry out his work, but he doesn't care about you in the least. He cares about nothing. Severus, if you join us, you can find something worth living for. Something far greater than what Voldemort has for you."

"When you say us, who do you mean?"

"A secret society, aimed at defeating Voldemort, and ensuring the safety of the world."

"And what use could I possibly be to you?"

"We need a spy, Severus. Someone on the inside."

"A spy? Do I look like a spy to you?"

"Anyone can be a spy. You are a perfect candidate for the job."

"How so?"

"Your mother told us much about you. You're near perfect grades in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. She told us about the Occlumency, and your deep desire to prove yourself. We need those traits in a spy."

"And just what did my mother do for your secret society?"

"She relayed messages, and recruited new members in secrecy."

"And she told you about me?"

Albus nodded. "She felt that you didn't really want to be a part of Voldemort's scheme. She said that you were simply misled, and that she felt you could be a vital part of our society."

"What about you?" Severus asked, looking at Isabella.

"I came to England three months ago. I had heard about the society from a group of friends of mine, and felt that I could help. I am a trained healer. So, I sought out the society, and joined just last week."

"Did you know who I was?"

"No. Not at first. Not until I later told Albus of the man I had met in the village."

"Join us, Severus," Albus begged. "We could use your help. So many of our number are dying, and though we have recruits to aid us, we need inside help. You are skilled at Occlumency, and therefore can block your mind from Voldemort's. No one else could be better for the job."

Severus sat in a reverie, before he final broke the loud silence with his thoughts. "Voldemort is the reason my mother is dead. My father worked for Voldemort, and looked where it got him. I don't want a part of this any longer. I think that I am ready and willing to work with you, Dumbledore."

"Then Welcome to the team," Dumbledore said, extending his hand to be shaken.

"So, what do you do for the 'team'?" Snape asked Isabella that evening.

"I work in secret, recruiting members from England, Ireland, and Italy. I also help to heal anyone who has been hurt in an attack if I can."

"Sounds interesting," Severus commented, leaning back into his chair.

"Not really," Isabella answered, smiling. Her smile faded though, when she saw the far away look in Severus's eyes. "Are you nervous?"

Severus nodded. "Only a little though. I'll get over it. I have to, if I'm going to keep my head out there."

"You must be the bravest person I have ever met," Isabella said in admiration.

"I'm not, trust me."

"Even so, what you are doing is selfless and brave."

"Thank you, I guess." Severus turned toward her. The sun was setting behind them, and the last rays of sunlight fell upon her dark hair in a fashion that made her seem as though she wore a halo. She turned to face him, and their eyes studied each other, deciding what they should either say or do next. Severus leaned in as Isabella closed her eyes, and…

Two months later, Snape approached Dumbledore at Hogwarts, as the Headmaster prepared for another year. "What would you like to discuss with me, Severus?"

"It's about Isabella," Snape began.

"Ah yes. I believe the two of you have grown quite close as of late. What would you like to tell me about her?" Dumbledore looked straight at him through the half-moon spectacles.

"We have discussed it, and would like to get married."

Dumbledore did not appear shocked, but instead hesitant. "Do you think it wise, Severus, to marry her at a time like this?"

"Not exactly, and yet I have never felt more sure of anything in my life."

"Then, Severus, who am I to deter you from your decision?"

"I would like for you to perform the ceremony. I heard you were ordained a minister once."

"Ah yes. For a friend of mine who wished to get married in Albania. They didn't like the priest around there at the time. So, I was called to substitute. Didn't take me long…"

"So you'll do it?"

"Of course. How many people will attend?"

"Not many. In fact, probably none at all. I have no family who would attend, and Isabella's family is still in Italy. Besides, it would be too dangerous."

"I understand. I will invite a few Order members for you, then. After all, you must have witnesses."

"Alright. I don't know who would attend, though."

"Allow me to take care of that. Leave everything to me. All you have to do is get to the church in time."

"Church?"

"Well of course! You can't expect to have a wedding that's not in a church. Your mother would have disapproved of that highly!"

"You have a point," Severus mumbled.

"Don't worry, Severus. I will have everything under control. When is the wedding going to be?"

"On Saturday, I believe."

"Saturday? Can you get everything you need by then?"

"Isabella is wearing her mother's dress, and I have bought a new dress robe. We'll get the flowers Friday before the ceremony. That's all I can think of."

Dumbledore seemed to look at him closely, but simply said, "Alright then." Snape said his thank-you's and left. Albus's eyes held in them a strange twinkle as he contemplated Saturday's event.

"Do I look alright?" Severus asked Minerva as he stood at the altar.

"You look fine, Severus. Just relax." The church was illuminated with afternoon sunlight, and two candles glowing on the altar. Jasmines decorated every pew and window, spreading their scent and beauty throughout the church. Blue ribbons hung around the stems of the flowers, wrapped in delicate bows that held them in place. Severus was wearing a dark blue dress robe, his hair cut and slicked back, not holding its usual greasy appearance.

"Was it really wise of Dumbledore to invite so many people?"

"That's not that many, Severus. And besides, these are all people that we can trust."

"Well, I don't trust all of them." Namely, Severus was speaking of the couple that sat in the second row from the front. The woman looked happy and supportive, while the man looked as though he had been blackmailed into going. The pair consisted of none other than James and Lily Potter, newly married themselves. Sitting on the other end of the church was Lupin, probably sitting separately so as not to cause a disturbance when James decided to act out. Severus tore his eyes away as music started from somewhere in the distance. All else faded, and all he could see was the beautiful woman walking in his direction. Her hair was tied away from her face, with the exception of a few dark curls to surround her face. The white dress seemed to make her glow in the afternoon sunlight seeping into the windows. Nothing else seemed to matter, except for the woman in white.

The wedding was beautiful, and everyone said so. But all were warned before they left that the momentous occasion was to remain an absolute secret. No one outside of the crowd in the church was to know of it. It was so secret, that Isabella had to live in secret at Snape Mansion, being careful not to be sighted in the house or anywhere near it. Isabella would tell not even her closest friends, and neither would Severus. Their love would remain a secret, especially from Voldemort. He had seen what happened to other new wives of death eaters. They were forced to submit and serve him as well. Severus didn't want to see his love get hurt.

For weeks, the secret of their marriage was kept. No one spoke of their wedding, even at the Order's Headquarters. If a death eater was to stop for a visit, Isabella would floo to headquarters from the library until Severus came to fetch her. He lied perfectly to Voldemort, telling the Dark Lord that he only lived to serve him, and spent most of his time brewing potions and torturing muggles. Recently, though, Severus had told Voldemort that he felt muggles were filthy, and would rather not come in contact with such as them. Besides, their non-magic filth may affect his potion making skills. After all, potion making required magic in its purest form. Voldemort, not willing to compromise his best potion maker, allowed him to not participate in any more muggle torturing.

The truth was, the thrill of it was gone for Severus. He no longer enjoyed torturing people. It seemed sick to him ever since the death of his mother. He could understand if they had attempted in injure him somehow, but they were muggles, and he had nothing against them, besides the fact that they were not magical. Voldemort trusted him entirely, and this Severus used to his great advantage.

Severus would go to every meeting when called, and report news back to Dumbledore, who would then plan an inconspicuous way to ruin the plans. It didn't always work, but there were more victories then there had been in a long time.

It was one terrible mistake that could have ruined it all, though. Isabella had left home for a week to try and recruit members from Italy. Severus missed seeing her daily, but said nothing to anyone. He eagerly looked forward to seeing her again upon her return. The day of her scheduled arrival, he had made a special dinner for her, preparing the house for her. Standing in front of the clock, he waited impatiently. Time passed, and as it grew late, Snape grew worried. After all, Isabella was almost never late. It was late evening before he left to search for her. He looked in the village, but saw no trace of her. He couldn't question anybody without raising suspicion. Not able to find her in the village, Snape appearated to the headquarters. He was greeted by Dumbledore, who stood in front of him with a look of utter shock and sadness. "What is it?" Severus asked.

"Severus, Mad-Eye was out today, and he came across something…"

"What was it!" Severus demanded.

"It was Isabella, Severus. He found her body in the woods. She had been tortured. We think they caught her and were trying to find out information. From what we can gather, she told them nothing."

"She's dead?" Severus asked quietly, in disbelief.

"I'm afraid so."

"How long have you known?"

"About noon. We didn't know how to tell you, Severus. We didn't want you to have to find out from Voldemort, but no body knew how to break the news to you. I am so very sorry."

"Can I see her?"

"Of course." Dumbledore turned, and led Severus to a small room that contained one table. On the table, covered in a white sheet, lay pale Isabella. Severus wanted very much to scream or cry, and yet he did nothing. He went to the side of the table and touched the side of her face gently. It was over, just like that. The happiest thing in his life was gone. "I'm going to make sure Voldemort is destroyed," he whispered softly to Isabella. "And I'm going to do it for you."

A/n: Please r/r.


	15. Chapter 15: OWL Results

Disclaimer: Characters and story all belong to the revered J.K. Rowling.

Hello again. I'm back. I'm glad that you all enjoyed the last chapter. I would so love to update sooner than I do, but there are so many things to prevent me from doing so. Thank you so much for reviewing last time. I must warn you, though, I think that the title of this story was originally used for another one, so I may end up having to change it again. (So sorry about that.)

Well, to my reviewers, thank you so much for the positive reviews and everything. Glad that you liked how I made Snape and Isabella's relationship. (I couldn't see a teary-eyed Snape either, Gwenneth.) And to Andromeda Snape-Malfoy, thank you for correcting the Latin. I'm a terrible speller, in any language. I knew what it meant, I just hate spelling. LOL. To the rest of my wonderful reviewers, thanks for your thoughts and opinions.

Well, we leave the tragic story of Severus and Isabella behind now, and focus on the present. You'll soon find out why I changed the title, and what is going to happen to poor Harry next. Please don't forget to read/review.

Chapter 15: OWL results

No matter how much he tried, Harry couldn't confine himself to the Hospital wing. It was so utterly boring, there. He tried to occupy himself with various books that were lying around or that Madame Pomfrey would bring him, but he couldn't find anything interesting to read at the moment. He wanted to know what his scores were from the previous year. He wanted to know what he would be taking during the next term.

Harry took to a slow pacing around the wing. Each step hurt, and it was slow and tedious, as he was still limping drastically, even with the aid of a cane. Finally, he could take it no longer. He would be more careful this time to not get caught, but he was leaving, if only for a little while.

Harry carefully peered around the doorway of the hospital wing. No one was in sight. Madame Pomfrey was probably reading or had taken a nap by now, and Snape had more thank likely barricaded himself in the dungeons again. Harry took one cautious step forward. No one rushed forward to stop him from proceeding, so he took another. Still nothing. Feeling relieved, Harry proceeded down the hallway. He didn't really know where he was going, he just felt like walking. He felt tired, and his legs were so weary, and yet he couldn't stop. He finally was free for a little while, and he was going to use the opportunity if he could.

Harry found his way into the stairway, amid all of the various staircases that changed and the curious pictures that lined the wall. "Good heavens, boy!" A proper, elderly lady chimed. "What in the name of Merlin happened to you?"

Harry glared at the portrait, but did not answer. "A student already? Term doesn't start for a few weeks!" Several portraits conversed. Still, Harry said nothing. "Boy, does the Headmaster know you're here?"

"He knows I'm at Hogwarts. Just, please don't tell anyone that I was out of the Hospital wing!" Harry pleaded. "It's just so dull there."

"Well, I won't say a word." A young witch said. "I know how dull it is to be cooped up like that."

"I'm sure there is a reason that you're not supposed to leave," a red haired wizard reasoned.

"Well, don't tell anyway. Please?" Not waiting for an answer, Harry climbed the stairs that led to the astronomy tower. He entered the tower, and peered around. It was so lonely here. But it was peaceful. The birds and insects sang, filling the air with a feeling of bliss, and for the first time in a long while he felt at peace. True, he was almost constantly in pain, but his mind was at rest.

* * *

Not far away in the castle, Snape had gone to the hospital wing to give Harry the results of his exams, and discovered he had gone missing. "Damn that stubborn boy!" Snape raced into the stairway, and addressed the portraits. "Did you see a boy come in here?"

"No," a witch responded promptly. All too quickly, really.

"Don't lie, Eliza," a red haired wizard barked. "A boy came in here not long ago and asked we say nothing of his leaving. I think he went to the astronomy tower."

Roars of protest and some of encouragement came from the various portraits. Some had felt a loyalty to the student who had just trudged up the stairs, while others felt a certain responsibility of telling teachers everything. Snape sneered and trudged up to the stairs, his mind set on getting Potter in trouble. He still loathed the boy, even through all they had been through. He still saw the boy as a "tragic hero" who was too adored by everyone. In other words, he still loathed Potter.

Harry heard someone trudging the stairs to the door, and panicked. In his haste, he stood up far to quickly and nearly fell over. He felt dizzy and sick, as blood rushed to his head. His legs became weak, and he sank into a blissful darkness as Snape entered the room. At first, Snape didn't see the boy laying on the floor of the room, until he looked down. There, having passed out cold, lay Harry Potter. Snape sneered, but conjured a stretcher for the boy to lie down on and levitated him back to the infirmary. Snape then proceeded to give the boy a restorative potion. Not long afterwards, Harry's eyes opened slowly, surveying the area around him, and groaning when he realized he was back in the hospital wing.

"Believe it or not, Potter, rules do apply to you," Snape sneered. Harry shot a nasty glare in Snape's direction, but said nothing in response. "What were you doing out of bed?" No answer came from the silent figure in the bed. "Well, Potter? Are you going to answer, or are you going to play the role of the poor, misunderstood child?"

"I just wanted some fresh air," Harry quietly replied.

"And so you completely disregarded orders to stay in the infirmary? If you cannot learn to control yourself and learn to follow the rules, we will have to result to more, unpleasant measures to ensure your safety."

At that comment, Harry grimaced. He could only imagine the types of restraints they could use to make him stay a prisoner in Hogwart's infirmary. He decided the more pathetic approach may get him farther with his pleading. "Sir, I'm sure you understand though, that I had been kept a prisoner for so long. I hate to be kept locked up. I need fresh air and freedom. Can it somehow be arranged that I leave here sometime?"

"Once you heal properly, I am sure the Headmaster will be more than willing to grant you freedom from the Wing. Until then, it is my unpleasant duty to act as a babysitter for you, and make sure you don't end up hurting yourself."

"I won't though! I can handle walking around the school on my own."

"Oh? Then why did you faint in the Astronomy Tower?" No answer. "It's apparent to me that you cannot handle a venture on your own as of yet."

With those words, spoken in a cold and condescending manner, Snape got up and walked out of the infirmary without a hesitation or glance back. Harry hit his head a few times on the pillow, hating the fact that he was so weak.

He couldn't help not wanting to be a prisoner in what was supposed to be a safe place. He had been a prisoner at Privet Drive, and then a prisoner of Voldemort's. Why did Dumbledore feel it was such a good idea to keep him a prisoner now? It was almost enough to drive Harry to insanity. If only he could convince them he was ready to leave the infirmary. After all, what had the cane been for if not to help him around the school? Harry blinked slowly, feeling tired and depressed. It was so boring, the constant confinement to a single room. As he lay there, assessing his situation, he wondered if anyone even really cared. He wondered if he was condemned to sit in the hospital wing like an invalid until the new school year began.

Harry looked onto the nightstand, where a white envelope bulging with papers lay. The envelope was addressed to Harry Potter, Hospital Wing, Hogwarts, and bore the insignia of the Magical Results Boards. (A/n: I have no clue who would really give him his results. I can't find my book. ;)) Harry picked it up carefully, as though it were a muggle bomb that might explode if handled improperly. Slowly, as though not sure if he really wanted to read the results, he pried open the envelope flap, and allowed the papers to fall into his lap.

Harry's hands shook with a mix of anticipation and forbidding. He picked up the papers and carefully unfolded them.

Dear Mr. Potter, (the letter read)

It is with great pleasure we give you the results of the OWL exams you took in the Spring. Enjoy the rest of your summer, and the courses you will take during the following year.

Sincerely,

Cecilia Rodgers,

Head of the Magical Results Board

London, England

The next sheet bore a list of all the exams and his scores.

Transfiguration: O

Defense Against the Dark Arts: O

Astronomy: E

Potions:

Did he even want to look. Slowly, he reopened one of the eyes he had squeezed shut:

O!

Was it even possible? He had actually done it! He had mastered the potions exams! He was going to NEWT classes after all! He could still be an auror! And oh my gosh, he had to deal with Professor Snape for another two years! Harry took a deep breath and continued down the list.

History of Magic: A

Care of Magical Creatures: O

Divination: E

Harry really didn't care about the rest of his results. He had managed to make it to NEWTS Potions! He could be an auror after all, no matter what anyone thought or said. This news made him want to talk to someone. And yet, there was no one to talk to. He sighed deeply, feeling considerably lonely and wishing for a companion to speak to. Yet there was no one. No Sirius or Lupin, Ron or Hermione, no one. So instead, he silently put his results on the table next to him, got out his book on the history of Quidditch, and resigned himself to reading for the next hour or so.

* * *

A/n: Please help me with any classes or details I may have missed. Don't forget to read/review! 


	16. Chapter 16: Occlumency Again?

Disclaimer: Still own nothing. All credit to J.K. Rowling

A/n: Well, since I am on vacation, I think I'll take the opportunity to write some more. Thanks for the reviews I have received. I am so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter. To Gwenneth, your pretty close to what I was about to get at in this chapter. Good going! Well, anyway, I don't think I'll ramble this time. Enjoy my next chapter, and please, PLEASE, r/r afterwards

Chapter 16: Occlumency Again!

Severus was sitting in his office, about to brew another potion, when he received a personal visit from the Headmaster himself. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Severus greeted as warmly as he could muster.

"I came to ask for a favor, Severus."

Snape braced himself. This was never good. Never. "And that would be…?"

"I would like for you to resume your Occlumency lessons with Mr. Potter." There it was. The worst possible fate for a man condemned to spend the remainder of his summer in the castle. Teach a brat how to occlude his mind. Not just any brat, either. Harry Potter. Could things get any worse?

"With all due respect, Headmaster, don't you feel that it would be more beneficial for you to teach him?"

"I feel you are a better legilimens than I, Severus. And with all this war business, I scarcely would have time. Besides, I feel the two of you need to settle your differences. You have both just survived a situation most wizards would never live through. You are the only people who could possibly understand each other at a time like this."

"What if I don't want to understand him?"

Albus smiled. "Then you have little choice anyway."

"Don't you recall what happened during the last lesson?"

"I do, Severus. Butt the two of you need to resolve your differences. We are all allies, and need to learn that we can depend on each other. Good day, Severus. If you need me, you know how to get in touch." And the headmaster left, with a spring in his step as though he had just somehow won some sort of game. Sometimes, Snape loathed the man. And then, the man was more of a father than anyone in Severus's life had ever been, so he couldn't help but feel affection for him. Severus groaned when his mind turned to the task at hand. This would be a most unpleasant summer for him.

Meanwhile, back at the hospital wing, Dumbledore had just strode up to the bed where Harry was lying asleep, his glasses askew on his face and the book about to slip onto the floor. Albus quietly slipped the book from underneath the boy's fingers, and Harry stirred immediately.

"Professor," Harry said, startled.

"Hello, Harry. I came here to give you some news."

Harry's face was a mixture of eagerness and yet foreboding. Did he want to hear this news?

"I have arranged for you to continue your occlumency lessons with Professor Snape."

Harry's face looked panicked. "But, sir, is that really such a good idea given the circumstances?

"Harry, I feel that it is detrimental to your own health and safety for you to continue in your lessons with Professor Snape."

"Snape and I don't get along, though. I would be constantly ridiculed. Not to mention he's angry that I looked in his pensieve last time."

"Professor Snape will refrain from any displays of contempt, as will you, I trust."

Harry bowed his head slightly. "Yes sir," Harry said.

"Trust me, I am doing this out of your best interests."

Harry nodded, but did not look up again until long after the Headmaster had left the hospital wing.

Possibly the only good thing that could come of the Occlumency lessons was the fact that he could now leave the hospital wing. Harry took the cane that he had been given, and slowly trudged down to the dungeons, where Snape awaited in his office. Harry knocked once, then heard the harsh, "Enter," from his professor. Harry took a deep breath and complied with the command. Inside, he found Snape, back turned to him, pulling strands of memories out and placing them into the Pensieve on the table. Glaring at Harry, Snape quickly turned and put the Pensieve on a shelf far away from where they would be practicing.

"Sit!" Snape barked. Not wanting to cause any trouble yet, Harry did as told, waiting apprehensively for his professor to begin.

"Now, I feel that this year I will make my rules even clearer, if possible, so that you're brain is capable of comprehending what I say," Snape spit the words as though they tasted foul in his mouth. Yes, he truly was back to his old self now. "One, there will be no invasion of privacy on your part. Yes, as your instructor in this tedious task, I must gain access to many of your more personal memories, but MINE are strictly off limits to you, understand?"

"Yes," Harry said.

"Yes what?"

"Yes sir."

"Secondly, you are not to enter into this office unless I am here. That way, there will be less of a chance that you should be tempted to invade my personal space. Third rule, any mouthing off or disrespect, and I will find the most unpleasant chores for you to accomplish, injured or not. Finally, absolutely no mention of this to anyone. Are you going to comply with all of my rules?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"Good. Now, onto another pressing matter. How did you do it?" Snape sneered.

"Do what? Sir?"

"Cheat on the OWLs."

"I did not cheat," Harry spat back, with equal viciousness in his voice.

"Then how do you explain an O on the exam? You certainly are not capable of a score such as that on your own."

"I am. I studied independently. It is just that under the tutelage of an incompetent teacher, I could not fully grasp the concepts taught to me." Oh wonderful, he'd done it now. Harry had really stepped his foot in it this time. He could literally feel the anger radiating from the Potion's master.

"I am not an incompetent teacher, you are just an ill-suited potions student. No matter how you try to hide it, you ARE a cheater, and you did not get into my class on your own merit."

"Why don't you look in my eyes and tell me if I'm lying?" Harry dared. Snape did not answer, just glared at the student across from him. "I know why you won't. You know I'm telling the truth. And the whole idea that I DID get into your NEWT class is about to kill you, isn't it?"

"I said I will NOT tolerate disrespect!" Snape was not shouting. On the contrary, his voice was the dangerous low hiss that scared most first years into nearly wetting themselves. But Harry was not a first year, and he was passed any fear that this professor could try and inflict on him.

"Yes, sir." Harry retorted, words dripping with sarcasm.

"Stand up, and get your wand at the ready." Snape himself stood quickly and got into position. There was no warning, for as soon as Harry found his feet, Snape shouted, "Legilemens!"

Memories bombarded his mind, if possible with more force and vividness than ever before. The first was of Dudley, chasing after him with a B.B. gun, and Harry having to hid behind a dumpster to escape the pellets. Next came the vision of Sirius, falling behind the veil. "No!" Harry's mind screamed. And yet he had no power to push the visions away. The vision flashed to his cursing Bellatrix Lestrange, her cruel eyes enraged.

Then the visions that Harry was dreading the most: The capture. The torment. The torture. It all came rushing back. The pain. It was so real. He felt he was sinking, falling, and he did not try to stay standing.

A/n: Sorry it's short. Will try to update soon.


	17. Chapter 17: Go to Bloody Hell!

Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I take no credit.

Hello. Thought I might update while I still have the chance. Well, glad that you all liked the last chapter, and I hope that you like this one just as much if not more. I absolutely LOVE all of my reviewers. Thanks so much for your support, and for taking the time to read.

Special thanks to Bee for bringing it to my attention that I had forgotten Charms results. (So sorry Professor Flitwick.) So, let's just say Harry got an O in that and is in NEWTS charms.

On another note, I recently opened a yahoo group where people can talk about basically anything, although Harry Potter is the main topic. Feel free to stop in there at any time. (I only have two members so far.) It's on my author's page for those interested. (Also, if you have any hints, I've never owned a web page before and need help managing it.)

Well, enough delay. On with the next chapter, shall we?

Chapter 17: "Go to Bloody Hell!"

When Harry opened his eyes, he at first saw nothing. He blinked a few times, and his vision cleared, although everything was still spinning terribly before his eyes. In front of his face, a small vial was held out. "Take it," the voice of Professor Snape growled. Harry slowly moved his hand up and took the vial, drinking the entire contents. The room stopped spinning and came into focus, and so did the annoyed face of Professor Snape. Harry sat up, for the first time realizing that he was lying on a cot in the middle of the office. "Get up," Snape commanded. Feeling that he had already overstayed his welcome, Harry did as told and tried to make his way out of the door. "Oh no you don't. Sit down at the desk."

Harry obliged, while Snape made the cot disappear into thin air with the simple wave of his wand. "Well, it looks as though you have some explaining to do," Snape sneered, as he took the seat opposite Harry's.

"About what, sir?"

"About what! About cursing Lestrange, if nothing else. And then, about what happened when you tried Occlumency this time."

"I thought you weren't allowed to punish or interrogate me for anything you see in my memories!" Harry accused.

"I'm not allowed to punish you, true. But nothing was ever said about interrogations. So, answer me now: Why did you curse Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"Do I need a reason?" Snape glared. "Because she had just killed Sirius. Because she would have tortured me first. Because she deserved it, that's why."

"There is no good reason to use a cruciatus curse on someone, Potter."

"Like you've never used it before." Harry shot back.

Snape seemed to grow paler, and yet his voice became more dangerous. "That is entirely different."

"Oh is it? You still performed the curse, did you not? And on innocent people. Muggles, or witches and wizards fighting against Voldemort. At least she deserved it!"

"Do not use his name!" Snape hissed. "And that is entirely different! You are an inexperienced child, at best. You have no idea the repercussions of using such a curse. There is more than one reason it is an unforgivable."

"Such as."

Snape shot a dirty look in Harry's direction. "Such as, emotional breakdown. Inability to focus. Et cetera, et cetera."

"Well, I'm fine. So I guess I have nothing to worry about."

"Don't be so sure, Potter." The Professor strode to the side of the desk next to a shelf of potions. "There are other curses used for torture and killing. Why is there are only three that are unforgivable?"

Harry fell silent. He hadn't really thought about that before. They hadn't learned of any other reasons in Defense Against the Dark Arts class with the psychopathic teacher. He tried to reason it out in his own mind, but could think of nothing. "I guess that I don't know, sir."

Snape had a semi-triumphant look on his face. "Than perhaps you should learn." He went to a bookshelf, picked up possibly the thickest book on the whole shelf, and gave it to Harry. "I want two feet on the Unforgivables themselves, and then another foot on what makes them unforgivable."

"But sir…"

"DON'T 'But sir' me, boy. You will do as told. This assignment will be finished in one day, when we meet again for another lesson. Is that understood?"

Harry glared at his teacher, wishing he had laser vision, like the American Superman did. "Yes. Sir." Harry said.

"Now get out." Snape turned away from Harry, obviously waiting for the boy to leave. Harry took the opportunity and almost darted out, barely remembering to grab the cane as he left the office in a hurry. He stormed up to the hospital wing in a fury, completely unbelieving the fact that he now had a long assignment that would be do the following day. Harry would liked to have hit something, but restrained himself. Instead, he decided to devote his energy to the demanding task of finishing Snape's essay.

The hours seemed to drag slowly by as Harry worked on the essay. All of his work was careful and precise, hoping to get all of the details correct so that he would have no reason for Snape to yell at him. Most of the details he pulled from the hideously large book that Snape had given them, although some he pulled from the lessons from the imposter Moody. Harry did not look up from the essay until it was sundown, at which time Madame Pomfrey had walked in with a tray of food for him. "So busy," she said, clicking her tongue in disapproval. "I thought I told you to relax."

"Sorry, Madame Pomfrey, but Snape gave me this assignment and it's due tomorrow."

"Professor, Harry. And don't worry, I'll talk to him for you." Harry would very much have liked that, and yet he wasn't sure that that was such a good idea.

"It's alright Madame Pomfrey. I'm sure he won't give me another assignment after this one."

"Nonsense. He needn't be giving my patient so much to do! Don't worry about him, Mr. Potter. He had to obey my orders for you wellbeing. He won't get mad if I tell him not to give you anymore work."

Harry sighed. "Thank you, then."

"It's no problem. But Mr. Potter, I'm going to go ahead and inform you that I will be leaving tomorrow morning.. I feel that you are doing better, and any of your medical needs can be helped by your professor. But if you ever need anything, you can contact me."

Harry wanted to protest, and yet felt it would be unfair to deprive the medi-witch of her summer as well. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you for telling me."

Madame Pomfrey nodded and left. Harry all of a sudden wasn't hungry at all. The idea of having to stay in the castle practically alone with Professor Severus Snape for the remainder of the summer was not pleasant. The man had a constant grudge against Harry, and it would be an almost intolerable time.

* * *

The next morning, Harry reported promptly to Snape's office, parchment rolled up in his hand. He handed it to the professor immediately. Snape began reading over it, and then tossed it aside as he finished. "Unacceptable," he said, a sneer on his face.

"Why is that?" Harry said, between clenched teeth.

"You completely missed the point of this essay."

"You told me to write about the unforgivable curses, and why they are unforgivable. I did that."

"You wrote an interpretation of why the curses are unforgivable! Did you use other sources besides the one book?"

"No. You lent me that book to use, and I did. You never said anything about 'other sources.'"

"You ASSUMED, Potter. And you know what they say about assuming." Professor Snape's voice had changed to a sort of joyful condescension. The sound of it was infuriating Harry more and more by the second.

"I did the assignment exactly as you told me! There is no reason as to why it should be labeled 'unacceptable.'"

"The point of this essay was so that you could see why unforgivable curses are dangerous to the caster, not only to the recipient."

"You never said that."

"That was what the whole conversation was about, wasn't it? The consequences of using the unforgivables. You are to redo this whole assignment again tonight, and turn it in to me tomorrow. This time, a total of four feet are required."

"I'm not doing that bloody thing again!"

Snape seemed to radiate contempt and anger, becoming more angry at the teenager's blatant refusal to cooperate. His anger, though, did not compare to Harry's. Tables began to rattle, and bookshelves shook. "Control your temper, Mr. Potter," Snape sneered.

"You can go to Bloody **HELL** for all I care! I'm not redoing that bloody piece of trash essay just at your whims! You're like a petty little kid!" A glass on the desk shattered into a thousand pieces, although neither of them blinked. Professor Snape grew paler, and Harry grew madder. Both of their eyes shone with fury boiling inside. Snape was about to say something, but Harry didn't give him the opportunity. "You tell me to do something, and then complain when I do it as you feel is incorrect! I'm sick and tired of, of _**YOU**_!" It was at that precise moment that Harry turned and left before any other words could be exchanged. He was grateful that he had been standing right by the door, for if he hadn't of been, there would have been no escape from the office. Harry moved extraordinarily fast for someone who was injured. In a second in he was at the end of the hall, darting away from the dungeons. He heard Snape shouting after him in fury, but did not respond. Two windows shattered as he darted past.

Harry only slowed down minutes later, when his side began to hurt and his leg felt it would give out on him. The fury began to die down, leaving him with a sick feeling. Harry fell forward, onto his knees, white hot anger leaving him for nausea and a killer headache. Before he was even completely aware of it, he was vomiting out what he had eaten only a little over an hour before. He tried to stop himself, but he couldn't. The food resurfaced faster than he could stop it. Eventually, the vomiting stopped, if for no other reason than there was nothing left in his stomach. Harry muttered a cleaning spell weakly, ridding the hallway of the foul-smelling stomach contents.

As Harry stood up, he felt he nausea returning. He glanced around, and saw the boy's lavatory that was conveniently close by. He made his way into the door, but never made it to a toilet. For as soon as the door was opened, the vomiting returned. This time, though, it was not food that fell onto the stone floor, but blood, crimson and thick. The coppery taste only made him feel more ill, if earthly possibly. In his mind, Harry screamed for help, but no words ever passed his lips. Darkness pressed in around him, and he fell onto the floor beside the pool of blood. The last thought before he passed out was, "Not again."

* * *

"Have you seen Mr. Potter?" Snape demanded of Peeves.

"Pitiful Potty who Pukes Pink?" Peeves cackled. Snape brushed the words off as another one of the poltergeist's unusual riddles, and continued on the search on his own. "Of course I've seen him! The little prat ran by not ten minutes ago. Looked quite sick if you ask me. Of course, if you step into the lavatory, you can see for yourself just how sick he is." Peeves vanished before Snape could ask him the meaning of what he had said, and all that remained was a faint cackling.

Snape saw the boy's lavatory down the hall, and felt that that must have been the one Peeves was talking about. Snape stepped briskly toward the bathroom, and tried to push open the door. Something was blocking it though, as the door would not budge farther than an inch. "Potter, Open this door!" Snape shouted. There came no response. "I'm not fooling around. Open this door, or I'll curse it off it's hinges. One, two…Three!' Snape held true to his word. With a simple spell, he undid the hinges to the door, and pulled it away from the lavatory doorway. There, lying on the floor, lay Potter, dead to the world (a/n: not literally, don't worry).

* * *

A/n: Don't forget to read/review. Sorry if it's a little short. I'll try and update soon. 


	18. Chapter 18: Dying Isn't So Bad

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. (Wish I did, but I don't.)

Why, Hello my wonderful readers and reviewers! How have you been? I was actually going to update earlier, but I've been out of town. But now I'm home, and updating just for you entertainment.

To the reviewers, I so loved reading what you all had to say. Thanks for the reviews, and I am glad you're enjoying the story so far. For those interested, I have a yahoo group that you might want to try. I only have five other members so far, so I'm looking for those who may be interested. The site is groups(dot)yahoo(dot)com(slash)group(slash)twilightauthor488. So, if you're interested, go ahead and try it out.

Well, enough delays. On with the show! Don't forget to read/review.

Chapter 18: Dying Isn't So Bad

"He's….shh!...Potr.…" the voices were garbled. His head was swimming, and he dared not open his eyes. And yet, something in the back of his mind told him to wake up. Something he dared not question. So, ever so slowly, he opened his right eyelid. Before him stood Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape, talking quietly and paying no attention to him. His eyelid snapped back shut, not wanting to see the face of the professor he just yelled at not long ago. A loud thump as a chair fell over caused him to start though, and his eyes both snapped opened. There was no way to avoid them now. Madame Pomfrey had seem him jump slightly, and knew now that he was awake.

"Mr. Potter!" she said, putting on a false, cheery smile. "I'm so sorry about that. I'm just a little clumsy today." She seemed concerned, and as though waiting for something. Snape, however, stood stone-faced as usual. "I'll be right back," she said, sweeping out of the hospital wing. Harry wanted to tell her not to leave with Snape still in the room, and yet there was something foreboding, telling him not to say a word, and so he kept his mouth shut.

Harry pulled himself up with his arms, although the effort hurt him a great deal. "Stay still, Potter," Snape barked. Harry said nothing. "That was quite stupid of you. I will not put up with the adolescent behavior any longer. As soon as you are out of here, you are going to clean the entire dungeon." There was no malice in his voice. It sounded as though he were merely talking to Harry in his usual cold voice. And yet, one must remember that Snape was skilled at hiding most of his emotions.

"Severus!" Madame Pomfrey shouted, her voice sounding as though she was afraid. Snape drew his wand and half-jogged to Pomfrey's office to see what was the matter. Harry could hear their voices, although he couldn't hear the words. What he wouldn't do for a pair of those ears Fred and George had! The voices ended abruptly in a startling silence. Madame Pomfrey, white faced and looking as though she were about to cry, swept into the wing.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, worried. He had never seen Pomfrey like this before. It was unnerving, and he was dying to know what the matter was.

"I…I don't know yet," she said. "Just be patient and I'll tell you."

"Oh, for pity's sake woman, that's a lie and you know it," Snape said from the corner of the room. "Go ahead and tell him." Snape did not seem at all concerned with whatever it was, and preoccupied himself with looking through the potions that lined the cabinet walls.

"Please tell me," Harry pleaded quietly. "I can handle whatever it is."

Madame Pomfrey looked into his eyes carefully, and though, 'He's older than most adults I know!' It was that thought, that caused her to talk. "Harry, I ran a test on your blood, to see what was making you so sick and weak." Her voice failed her.

"Go on," Harry urged gently.

"Well, I got the results back. And, Harry, you're not…well. You're…dying."

The words struck Harry like a stunner curse. The world swam out of vision for a moment. Dying? He couldn't be dying! He had to defeat Voldemort! He had escaped. He was free of that dungeon, and Voldemort could hurt him anymore. He took a deep calming breath, and the world slowed down. Pomfrey stood exactly where she had been, and Snape had turned to watch what was going on.

"From what?" Harry asked, his voice shaking so slightly for someone who had been dealt such news.

"It's a disease contracted from the potion that Severus concocted on his own. Apparently, it destroys your organs slowly, causing internal bleeding."

"There's nothing that can be done?" Pomfrey shook her head. Harry turned to Snape. "And you mean to tell me this is all HIS FAULT!" his voice betrayed him to the anger he was feeling at the moment. Had he been able, he would have jumped out of bed and strangled Snape on the spot.

"Oh, get over yourself," Snape spat. "Like I really knew what the aftereffects of that potion would be."

"You're a POTION"S MASTER!" Harry roared. "You're supposed to know what will happen."

"I was only concocting a potion for torture as I was told. I had no idea it would be used on you, and I didn't know there would be any long-lasting effects." The same look of complete indifference remained on Snape's face, and it was driving Harry insane. He wanted to wipe that conceited look right off the professor's face. And yet, it seemed at the same time that it was not worth the effort.

"So you really can do nothing?" Harry asked, turning his attention back to the medi-witch who stood before him.

"No. Not unless Severus can concoct something to counteract the effects, and that is very unlikely."

Harry fell back into his soft pillows, just wanting the world to fade away. It seemed such a waste. All of the people who had sacrificed so much to help him, and his undoing would be an unintentional poisoning. Assuming, that is, that Snape really did have no idea that the potion was for Harry's use, and that it would cause lasting effects.

"I can give you some potions to help with the pain when it comes to that, but that's all I can do. I'm very sorry. I'll stay over the summer to help you if you need me to."

"No, that's alright," Harry insisted. "You need to spend time away from the school. I'll be fine."

Madame Pomfrey looked skeptical, and yet she still nodded. "I'll contact Dumbledore immediately to let him know." The witch turned to leave.

"Wait! Madame Pomfrey!" The woman stopped quickly and turned back around. "Please don't let anyone else find out. I don't want them to know. I don't want them to worry."

"Of course," she said, then left Snape and Harry alone.

"Don't think I'm about to forget what you did earlier," Snape hissed quietly.

"Oh, I'm sure you won't," Harry muttered. Snape heard him perfectly well, but did not say anything in response. Harry decided to close his eyes for just a little while, and maybe it would all just go away. Before he knew it, though, he had drifted back to sleep. Snape left the room, annoyed at the inconvenience of looking after the boy all summer long.

Harry was awakened by a door opening in some part of the hospital wing. He turned his head to see the Headmaster walking toward him. Dumbledore's face was pale, and his eyes looked old and tired, with none of their usual sparkle. He quickly made his way to Harry's bedside, just as Harry had managed to sit up. "Are you alright, my dear boy?"

Harry nodded. "I feel fine."

Dumbledore looked at Harry as though afraid the boy might break. "I am so sorry," the Headmaster said quietly.

"It's not your fault," Harry said, having thought of no reason why Albus would blame himself.

"Oh, but it is in so many ways. You see, it was my decision, for your own safety I thought, to leave you with your relatives. If I hadn't left you with them, they never would have hurt you, and then you would never have been captured. You wouldn't be dying if it wasn't for my faulty judgment."

"But you had no way of knowing what would happen," Harry said quietly. "It's not your fault at all."

"All of the times that I have put you in danger, you would think that I would know better. I am sorry beyond words."

Harry would have liked to come up with something to say, but couldn't. He certainly didn't blame Dumbledore in the least. It wasn't Dumbledore who had poisoned him, after all. It had been Snape and Voldemort. And yet, he could think of no words to say to take the blame away. "It's not your fault," Harry repeated. "Besides, it's possible I could die anyway. I've come to accept that fact recently, and I'll deal with this the same way. And dying really isn't so bad. It's really just like sleeping."

Dumbledore gave Harry a sad smile. "You are wise beyond your years. Only someone who was considerably mature could have such an outlook on life. Most people are terrified of death"

"I'm not afraid of death," Harry confessed. "I guess, I'm only afraid for those I leave behind. I'm not looking forward to the actual dying part either, but it will end eventually."

Dumbledore looked forlornly out of the window into the outside world. "Please don't tell anyone else," Harry said, and Dumbledore turned back to Harry. "I don't want them to know just yet. I'll tell them, one day soon enough, but for now I'd rather they not know."

Dumbledore nodded. "I understand completely. Now, I'm afraid I must leave you, Harry. Rest, and don't forget that you will resume you lessons with Professor Snape soon. Please try not to shout anymore." Dumbledore's eyes grinned at him. "I have spoken to Severus, and he has agreed to go easier on you, but this is a combined effort. You must show him at least a little bit of respect if you want him to be nicer."

"It would be easier to give him respect if he was a friendlier person."

"Severus Snape has lived through many trials in his life that few will ever understand. You must realize, Harry, that he does not know how to behave any other way. He is only acting as he knows how, and that is with contempt and anger towards most. There was a time when Severus was very hospitable, and could easily carry on a conversation with most people."

"So what happened?" Harry was now intrigued.

"I'm afraid that is his business. If he ever wished to tell you, he might. But I have no place to tell you what happened in his life. Good bye to you, Mr. Potter. I'll see if I can't arrange a visit from your friends soon."

"Thank you sir!" Harry called to Dumbledore's back as the Headmaster strode from the hospital wing.

A day later, Harry was sitting, fully dressed, on his bed. He clutched his walking stick tightly, not wanting to walk with the wretched piece of wood, and yet not wanting to be confined to his bed. Harry thought of all that had happened recently, and that he really didn't want to be stuck disabled for the rest of his brief life. He was determined to live the rest of his life to the fullest he possibly could. "Why can't the purpose of all of this be revealed to me?" he said. As he spoke the words, the cane began to glow brightly. Harry nearly dropped it, and yet something told him to hang on for a moment. As he watched, a bright green jewel slid out from the top of the cane and onto his lap. "That's funny," Harry thought. "I don't remember a jewel there."


	19. Chapter 19: The Green Stone

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Well, I have to admit that I hurried a great deal on the last chapter, and it wasn't exactly my best work. So, sorry for the sloppy work. Trust me, though, it will get better. I have an outline of the next few chapters in my story, and it will get more interesting. There are a few plot holes that I need to fill in, but other than that, the chapters from here on out are practically going to write themselves. (Still might take me a little while between updates, especially with finals coming up, but I'll try.) I have to say Wytil, that's not a bad idea. You should write that one yourself as a comedy. (I'm not too good at the whole funny thing.)

Anyways, Thanks to my reviewers for giving their opinions. I always appreciate reading what you have to say. And don't forget to visit my web group at: groups(dot)yahoo(dot)com(slash)group(slash)twilightauthor488

Here goes nothing! Please don't forget to read/review!

Chapter 19: The Green Stone

Harry turned the stone in his palm, studying it carefully. It was almost perfectly shaped, in an icicle shape that fit into his hand, almost palm-length. The green seemed to be almost the same color of the eyes he saw every time he looked in the mirror. It was eerie, as he held it in his hand. It was like it was giving off some strange sort of magic of its own. It had a hypnotizing effect on Harry, as he turned it over in his hand, admiring the fine detail of the stone. On the side, his finger felt grooves in the smooth stone. He turned it over to see small symbols, etched in its own strange form. Harry had never seen such characters before, and wanted to know what they said. The sound of footsteps heading toward the hospital wing startled Harry into almost dropping the stone. He carefully placed it into a robe pocket a moment before Madame Pomfrey entered the room.

"Are you sure there is nothing I can do for you before I leave?" the medi-witch asked him carefully.

"Absolutely. I need to meet with Professor Snape soon anyway. Thank you for all your help."

"Alright then," Pomfrey said, looking as though she felt sorry for the boy. "Remember, if Professor Snape is unbearable, just contact Dumbledore and he'll make things right."

"I will," Harry responded, standing. "Good-bye, Madame Pomfrey." Madame Pomfrey turned, and with one final good-bye, was gone. Harry sighed, then began trudging from the hospital wing, not wanting to meet with Professor Snape again.

The journey to the dungeons was normally a long one, and yet the dread of the upcoming lesson made it seem to pass all the more quickly, and before he knew it, he was standing before the door of the office. "Enter," Snape said, as Harry rapped lightly on the door.

Harry obediently entered, not wanting to keep the ill-natured professor waiting. He entered, to find Snape sitting at his desk, the pensieve already sitting on a high shelf away from the desk. "You're late," Snape sneered, glaring at the boy.

"Sorry. Sir."

"You will not be tardy again. Otherwise, I will give you another writing assignment, and you will find this one even more, unpleasant, than the last."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, I believe we should get started. You are seriously lacking in your occlumency skills, and we need to get them as good as possible soon."

"Why soon?" Snape glared, and Harry added, "sir."

"Because, Dumbledore feels that the Dark Lord will attack soon. And if he does, you need to be ready. Special wards were placed on the hospital wing to keep your mind safe, but they are only temporary. Soon, he will be able to find his way into your mind again, and you need to be ready."

"Why didn't anyone tell me about the wards?"

"You do not need to be told everything that goes on in the school. Now, prepare yourself."

Snape stood up and walked to the other side of the room, and Harry followed suit, standing a few feet in front of his professor. "One, two, three… Legilimens!"

The familiar flood of memories hit Harry suddenly, seemingly almost knocking him off of his feet. He was seeing Barty Crouch, begging him to find Dumbledore, and then his son, confessing to the horrible crimes of fourth year. Harry's mind reeled with the memory of the second challenge, where he was underwater, threatening the mer-people with what he had been sure was a pretty-worthless attack. 'Fight back,' a familiar voice in the back of his head reasoned. 'You don't want him seeing your memories, do you?'

'No," Harry answered himself. The memories flashed of Dudley's third birthday, a memory Harry didn't even know he possessed. Dudley shoved Harry into the dining room table, and he banged his head into the hard wood. No one helped him up or bandaged the bleeding spot on his head near his ear. His aunt and uncle merely laughed, praising Dudley's strength. 'So fight back!' the voice commanded. And Harry seriously tried. He tried blocking the memories, to make them disappear. 'Focus.' The voice was the same one that helped him to resist the Imperius curse. If it could help him then, it could help him now. The memories began to fade, as Harry saw the memory of Hermione handing him and Ron goblets filled with the Polyjuice Potion. The memory faded into the back of his mind, and he saw Snape standing before him. Harry shouted the first curse he could think of, and sent Snape staggering backwards.

"That was quite a simple curse," Snape remarked. "Knock me over? I thought you could do better."

"The first thing I could think of," Harry said.

"You did better," Snape sneered. "Except I want you to completely expel me from your mind, not curse me from it."

"I'm trying!"

"Well you're not trying hard enough! You won't always have a wand to rely on. You need to learn to rely on the power of your own mind. Otherwise, you will be easy prey for the Dark Lord." Snape turned for a moment to his desk, giving Harry a moment to recuperate. "What was that last vision?" Snape asked suddenly.

"Which one?"

"The one where you and your lackeys are in a lavatory. Was that a Polyjuice Potion Miss Granger was handing you?"

"What does it matter? You can't punish me for the things that you see in my memories. And don't call them my 'lackeys' again."

"And just what are you going to do about it, Potter?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, unsure of what he would do. "Dumbledore wouldn't like the way you're treating me," Harry stated.

Snape sneered. "How childish. Do you think you can always go running and complaining when something doesn't go your way?"

Harry said nothing except, "Let's get this lesson over with."

"You never answered my question. Was that a polyjuice potion?"

"Yes. Now, can we please continue?"

Snape nodded. "This time, though, put your wand down, and try to rid me from your mind on your own." Harry nodded, placing his wand in the pocket of his robes. "One, two, three…" Harry never even heard the curse being uttered. The sheer force of it almost caused him to fall down. He saw the memory of Dobby, visiting him in the hospital wing after the bludger had attacked him, and then one of awakening in the cupboard under the stairs with Dudley jumping on the stairs overhead. The scene flickered before his eyes to him being restrained to a table, as a worm coursed through his body, eating flesh and tissue as it traveled. 'Concentrate,' Harry though. 'Go away. I don't want you in my head!' As he thought, he tried blocking the memory from his mind. He focused on the darkness and emptiness as much as he could, and the memory began to fade as it did last time. 'Out of my head!' he thought, the sharpness of the thought reverberating into an almost shouted command. Snape did not withdraw from his mind. The vague memories still appeared in his head, and although he barely saw them, they were still there. Harry closed his eyes. 'No emotion,' he thought. 'No thought. Just emptiness.' And then it was gone. Harry felt unbearably weak and tired, but opened his eyes to see a shocked professor staring at him.

"I did it?" Harry asked in amazement.

"Finally," Snape sneered, not wanting to commend the sudden progress Harry had achieved.

"I can't believe it! I actually did it!"

"Took you long enough."

"At least I finally did it!" Harry said, still amused at himself.

"Yes, wonderful you. You did it all on your own. Look at the amazing Harry Potter. Get over yourself, boy. You still have a long way to go."

"Excuse me?"

"It took you a good long while to get me out of your head. You have to train yourself so that I don't get into your memories in the first place. It will be easier from here on out, but you are still required to practice considerably. Make sure to clear your mind before you go to sleep, and be here tomorrow at the same time. Tomorrow night, the wards to protect your mind in the hospital wing will fall, and your mind will be unprotected. You are to stay in a room down at the end of the hallway until the start of term. Report here tomorrow for your lesson, and afterwards I will show you where you will be staying."

"Yes, sir." Harry turned, and left. His mind felt fuzzy and tired, and yet he was remarkably happy at the progress he had made. He had actually gotten Professor Snape out of his mind without using his wand! If only he could tell Ron and Hermione. The thought of being separated from his friends dampened Harry's spirits a little. He wished that he could see them.

The hospital wing was dark as he entered in. The sun had moved so that now little light seeped in through the windows. Dinner would be soon, and a house elf would come in with his meal. The wing was unbearably large and lonely, and Harry felt empty inside. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the green stone, turning it almost unconsciously over in his hands. "I need to find out what this is," he said out loud. It was at that moment that Harry decided what he needed to do. That night, he would venture into the library and find out what it was.

The house elf came in with Harry's meal exactly at six thirty, and by that time, Harry's stomach was not wanting to eat, but fluttered with nervousness and anxious awaiting to see what he could find about the stone. He ate most of what was put on his plate, and waited for the house elf to come and take his food away. As soon as the clock began to chime eight thirty, Harry picked up his wand and began the journey to the library. "Lumos," he said quietly, and began walking through the halls. "Nox," he said, as he reached the portraits on the wall, so as not to disturb them. He made it to the library in a surprisingly short amount of time, especially since his limp hindered his traveling time normally. The door was locked up tight until the start of term, although Harry really had no idea why. No one was normally in the school at this time of year. "Alohamora," he said, and the doors unlocked, creaking open slightly. Harry pushed the door open and walked inside, carefully closing it behind him and relocking it.

The library seemed even more dark and threatening in the empty school; more so even than all of the times he had ventured here after dark during normal school days. Even then, he had known that there were other people nearby. But now, there was no one close enough to interrupt him unless one certain professor should chance to make a visit to the hospital wing.

Harry began scanning shelves for any books that looked helpful. The titles all looked so vague and unhelpful that he began to give up hope. Eventually, he found titles that seemed as though they could be useful. "Magical Gems", "Powerful Possessions", and "More than Ordinary Objects" seemed interesting enough, and he thought they might have been helpful in some sense.

Harry trudged to a table. He transfigured a pencil into a candle with a nifty spell he had learned a couple of years ago in class, and lit it, hoping that the light would stay on long enough. He quickly skimmed the books for any useful looking texts. Two hours dragged by, and yet never did he see a picture or description of the green stone he had in his possession. Harry returned the books back to their shelves, looking around for some hint as to what to do next. The shelves spanned for a great distance, and he really didn't want to search through every single shelf to find the information he needed.

Harry scanned through the rows of books on history and famous sorcerers, finally seeing a book that grabbed his attention away from all of the others. "The Color Green in the Wizarding World." He cautiously picked up the book, opening the cover to the first page. "The color green in the wizarding world is used most commonly to represent pure magic, useful in purposes to defeat dark magic. The color is found in many random places, from the ordinary to the extraordinary." Harry flipped through the book, skimming pictures for anything that looked helpful. His eyes finally found it. The Green stone was hidden away in the middle of the book, on an obscure page. But there it was. The picture was perfect. It possessed every detail of the stone, from every corner of it to the fine calligraphic writing on the side. He leaned closer into the page and began to read the words from the page:

"The Green Stone of Truth, as it has been known, is said to be the key to the answers to all questions. According to Celtic legend, the green stone was made by an all-knowing wizard, who crafted the stone from his own knowledge. The stone was to be used in a time of great need, when a good wizard or witch would need to defeat a dark evil in the world. The stone would serve as a key and a guide to the witch or wizard. Although the stone has been proven to actually exist, the legend behind it has never been proven.

"In the year 1752, a committee of wizards learned of an attempt to steal the green stone, and hid it away in a secretive place. The stone will only be found by the person who is truly meant to use it. The location of the stone has remained unknown ever since that day, and the story of the Green Stone sinks more and more into folklore. It has never been known if the stone really was a key, or how the key could ever be used. Only the one who was meant to find the key will ever truly know the answers.

"The Green Stone contains writing on the side, which supposedly tells the user how to unlock the answers. The language and writing is one that no scholar, wizard or muggle, had been able to translate, although both have often tried. Only the user will translate this ancient text into the vernacular."

The three paragraphs were all that the article contained. No more on the Green Stone could be found anywhere. Harry was disappointed, to say the least. And then, at the same time, he was mystified. Had he really found a stone that had been lost for hundreds of years? And was it really a key to answers? Could the answers be how to defeat Voldemort in this war? So many of his questions remained unanswered, and so many more found their way into his head.

Harry closed the large book, but did not put it back. Instead, he shrank it down and put it in the pocket of his robes. He blew out the candle, and re-transfigured it into the pen it had once been. Now badly burned on the end, the pen was placed in the security of his pocket, next to the book.

Harry sat down hours later, not able to sleep and quite unable to take his mind off of the stone. He took it out and ran his fingers on the writing. He wished he knew what it said. Harry had a hard time believing that he was meant to find the stone. And yet, it seemed to fit. He was supposed to be the one person who could defeat Voldemort, the darkest wizard of their time. If only the stone could give him all of the answers!

Harry put the stone back in his pocket, locking his trunk as though he feared someone would take it from him. He lay down on the bed, and though his mind wandered constantly over many questions, he was soon asleep.

The next morning, Harry was awoken by a house elf. "Master Potter! You need to get up! You is late for breakfast, and now it is lunch!"

Harry opened his eyes and realized that the meek house elf had been correct. He had way overslept! "The Headmaster gave this to Linky to give to Master Potter when he had awoken." The elf gave Harry an envelope with his meal, and then disappeared. Harry opened it, wondering what could possibly be in the letter.

It read:

"Dear Mr. Potter,

I have carefully considered the idea, and I believe it would be a good idea for your friends to visit you. As you are not to leave the school, they will be arriving here. Only Miss Granger and Mister Weasley will be visiting. They should arrive in two days. Enjoy your visit.

Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore"

Harry, filled with a sudden happiness, put down the letter and began to eat.

A/n: Don't forget to read/review. Next chapter: Harry tells his friends about the Stone, and dances around the topic of his disease.


	20. Chapter 20: A Visit from Pals

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Hello again. I'm leaving in a little over a week, so I wanted to go ahead and get my story to the nice round number of twenty as far as chapters go. That, and I had the sudden urge to write anyway.

Well, I would love to answer all of your questions on here, but I can't. I did that once, and they gave me a warning, telling me I was being to "interactive". Go figure. So, to answer your questions, I'm going to post responses on my website:

groups(dot)yahoo(dot)com(slash)group(slash)twilightauthor488.

To Diane especially, I've got a lot of your questions I can answer there. Think you might find responses interesting.

So, thanks for all of the reviews. And here is Chapter 20 for your personal enjoyment. Please read/review! I need to know what you think.

Chapter 20: A Visit from Pals

Harry walked down into the dungeons, leaning less on his cane today than he had in days past. His legs felt considerably stronger than they had, and he felt confident of himself for the first time in a long while. Ahead of his path, he was levitating his belongings, bringing them down so as not to have to make another trek up to the hospital wing. He knew how weary he would be after the lesson with Snape. He left his belongings outside of the door, and knocked hesitantly. "Enter!" the voice barked from the other side. Harry took a deep breath and entered in.

Snape stood there, wand in hand and facing the door. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"As ready as I will be. Sir."

"Put your wand on the desk," Snape commanded, pointing at a place on the desk nearer to him than Harry. Harry reluctantly obeyed, not wanting to trust the professor with the most powerful weapon he possessed. The two got into position, Snape looking at Harry with threatening eyes. Harry glared back, trying to prepare himself for anything the professor might throw in his direction. "Clear your mind, Potter. Be prepared for any attack. I will not warn you when I will hit you with the curse, so you must always be ready." Harry placed his cane against the desk as well, making sure it was out of the way in case he fell again, like he almost always did.

Harry tried to clear his mind. Too many questions were running through; too many random thoughts that had been plaguing his mind. "Potter!" Snape growled. "Control your thoughts! You will fall to the Dark Lord easily if you do not learn." Harry tried to focus on nothingness. 'Dark,' he thought. 'Just darkness. That's all.' Snape yelled the curse suddenly, and Harry fell under it too quickly. The darkness melted into the image of him sitting upstairs with Buckbeak, moping about the occurrences before Christmas. The memories flashed to his many detentions in the Dungeons. 'No!' he thought. 'Nothing. I don't want him to see anymore of my memories!' He focused on the dark, and brought it forward. The memories vanished, and he saw Snape stagger in front of him.

"What did I tell you, Potter? No memories at all. You must learn to not let me in in the first place. The Dark Lord is even more powerful than I am. How do you expect to keep him from your memories if you can barely push me out."

"I'm trying. And I am making progress. You saw for yourself."

"Oh yes. The Golden Boy finally pushed me out of his mind. But that's not good enough. You should not be satisfied with mediocrity. Professor Dumbledore has entrusted me with the task of keeping your mind free of the Dark Lord, and I intend on teaching you. But you must be the one to decide to actually achieve this delicate art."

"I am trying!" Harry said, his voice raising in amplitude.

"No need to shout, Potter. Now, let's try again."

Over the next hour, Harry tried to expel the leering figure from his mind. He succeeded in getting rid of the professor's spell, but never quickly enough. Eventually, he felt the effects of mental fatigue. Snape seemed to notice too, although this caused him to push even harder. Harry finally failed, unable to keep the professor out of his memories. "That was unfair!" he shouted at the professor.

"Stop being such a ninny!"

"I am not being a ninny!"

"We are done here for the day Potter. I will show you to your new room now, if you have your things with you."

"They're outside the door," Harry growled.

"Good. Follow me." Snape led the way out of his office, and Harry trailed behind. The dark figure stopped in the hallway long enough to levitate Harry's things. They walked a considerable distance before the professor stopped in front of a door. "You will be staying here," he said, pointing to the door, although not moving to open it. The possessions were set down in front of the doorway, and the Professor turned and walked off. Harry put his hand around the doorknob and opened it, revealing a nice little room.

It was painted in a light, very pale green shade. The bed sat near a window, with a canopy over it, also a green color, although considerably darker than the walls. A bathroom lay off to the side of the room, the door partly closed although a light could be seen coming from the inside. Harry moved his things into the room. True, it was plain, but it was roomier than his room at the Dursley's had been, and much more inviting. He sat on the large bed, looking around. It was only when he had been seated that he realized how tired he really was. Harry lay his head on the pillow, and was soon asleep.

At first, Harry dreamed of a Quidditch match. Umbridge shouted at him from the ground, telling him he could no longer play, that he had been banned, but he flew high above her, and the Gryffindor team laughed sneeringly at her. The dream swirled out of sight, and in it's place a long snake slither before his eyes. Two muggles were lying on the floor, gasping for breath. "Please, let us go," one pleaded. His eyes were pitiful, and Harry wanted to help them direly. And yet his body didn't move.

"I'll let you go," the familiar voice of Voldemort hissed. "AVADA KEDARVA!" he shouted, aiming at the muggle who had just pleaded for his life and that of his friend.

"What do you wish to say before you die?" Voldemort laughed, and several death eaters laughed with him.

The muggle looked wide-eyed at the wand held in Voldemort's hand. Harry saw by his face that he was only a boy, younger than he was. But the look of fear turned to one of stubborn refusal. "Kill me if you wish, but they'll find you! They'll find you and make you pay!"

"No one will make me pay for anything. You are only being punished for being inferior. Pitiful muggles such as yourself do not deserve to live in the presence of such greatness." Voldermort killed him at that moment, and the muggle boy lay dead on the floor, glassy eyes staring into the deep abyss of Death. Voldemort laughed hysterically, feeling glee at the killings he had just caused.

Harry awoke breathless, as though he had just seen two innocent boys die. His scar seared with pain, and his forehead felt as though it were about to split open. He knew he hadn't screamed this time. Instead, he seemed to be choking for air. Harry rushed to the bathroom, nearly falling without the support of his cane. He made it to the toilet just in time, before waves of nausea overcame him, and he vomited violently into the bowl. After several minutes, the vomiting passed, and he only had dry heaves left. Harry closed the lid of the toilet and washed his mouth out in the sink. Looking at his reflection, he could not help but to think of how pitiful he really looked. His face was extremely pale, and his eyes looked dull. Harry tore his eyes from the mirror, and made his way back into the bedroom.

The evening rays of sunset shone into the room, giving the tired feeling of night approaching. Harry sighed, sitting at a chair nearby. Harry watched the sunset, not tearing his eyes away for a moment. The sun gave its rays to the sky, causing the most brilliant performance of colors upon the clouds as it set. Purples, reds, and golds reflected on the sky in a dazzling display, and all too quickly it was over. Harry looked away, thinking of nothing, only breathing in the last bit of evening warmth from the open window. The feeling of sickness was long gone now, leaving him feeling rather empty. He closed his eyes, opening them only when the house elf popped in to give him dinner.

Down the hallway, a professor sat fuming over several seemingly random pieces of paper. It all had worked so perfectly on paper, so what had happened? The potion was supposed to serve as a temporary cursing method, not as a fatal poison to one's system. Of course, this was often the problem with experimental potions. The results could often be unanticipated. Oh how he had hated to explain to Dumbledore what had happened. And yet, the Headmaster had shown that he did not blame Snape for what had happened. After all, he had only done as he had been told. He had followed Voldemort's orders, as he was meant to.

Snape hated to admit it, even to himself, but he felt considerably guilty about Potter's impending death. It was, after all, his own fault. Of course, he could never tell Potter this. He still despised the boy, no matter how guilty he felt. The boy thought he was beyond fault, and Snape was determined to prove him wrong. However, that did not make it right for the innocent boy to die the painful and slow death that he seemed fated to. Snape brooded over each of the documents, looking for the one thing he could have missed. If he found it, he just may be able to find the cure.

* * *

Two days later, Harry sat anxiously in his room with a nauseous feeling in his gut. His friends were coming today. Normally, he would be ecstatic, but this time it was different. Sure, he would be more than thrilled to see his friends again, but he didn't want to tell them all that had happened. He didn't want to go into all of the gory details, and he especially didn't want to tell them about his dying. He didn't want to see the looks of pity in their eyes, and the forced smiles that they would give him. He found himself dreading their arrival at the same time that he was awaiting anxiously.

At around ten o'clock that morning, a house elf entered his room. "Master Potter's guests have arrived," she said quietly.

"Thank you," Harry said. "Could you show them in, please?"

The house elf did not need to show anyone in, because as soon as he had finished his sentence, two blurry figures came darting into the room. The next thing he knew, it was as though he were being suffocated, choked from around the middle. Hermione had grabbed hold of him, and now had him ensnared in a fierce hug. "Oh Harry! I thought I'd never see you again!" She let him go long enough to give him a peck on the cheek.

"Nice to see you, mate," Ron said, patting his friend on the back as Hermione hugged him again.

"We were so worried when you were captured!" Hermione said.

"Yeah. And then even more worried when we heard you were stuck here with Snape!"

Harry laughed. "It hasn't been so bad. I don't see him unless we're in Occlumency lessons."

"Thank God for small favors," Ron dramatized.

"Harry, we were so worried about you. Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry thought it over carefully. He wanted to talk with someone, but he didn't want to tell them yet. He just wasn't ready. "No." Hermione looked a bit disappointed, but said nothing. "So, how are your OWL scores?" he asked lightly.

"Oh Harry! You won't believe it! I got an O on almost everything but Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures!"

"I believe it," Harry muttered, grinning slyly. "What about you Ron?"

"Well, I got fairly good scores. And let's just say that I won't have to put up with Snape for another year."

Harry smiled, although Hermione looked very disapproving. "What about you Harry?" Hermione questioned. "Good or bad?"

"Well, I think I did alright." He handed his results form to Hermione, who looked over it carefully.

"Oh! You're in NEWTS Potions! This is wonderful Harry!"

"Ha ha ha!" Ron laughed. "Mate, I feel sorry for you. Glad I'm not in your shoes."

Harry couldn't help but laugh as well, and Hermione even grinned a little. "It won't be so bad this year, you know. Not since Snape doesn't have to be a spy anymore."

"Are you kidding? He hasn't changed a lick."

"Well, Harry, how would you feel if you'd just nearly been killed for being revealed as a spy?" Harry cringed. "He'll be better than before. You just watch."

The next few hours were spent going over details of Ron and Hermione's summer, and what had been going on in the Order. A lot of the time, Hermione seemed to be reminiscing about Harry's capture and their worry about his fate. Harry changed the subject successfully each time.

At around five o'clock, Snape entered in. "You need to be going back now," he said, his face showing absolutely no emotion.

"Right. Well, we'll see you mate," Ron said.

"Stay safe Harry, and we'll see you come start of term." Hermione embraced him once more. "Oh! I almost forgot." From her bag she had carried with her, Hermione brought out a large bundle of letters. "Ron and I wrote to you when you were captured. After we learned we would visit you here, everyone else wrote letters to you as well. They're all here. We thought you might enjoy mementoes from your friends."

"Thanks," Harry said.

"We have a schedule to keep," Snape said from the doorway. With one last farewell, the crowd separated, Harry feeling doomed for the rest of his summer. Snape led them away, and Harry sat back down on the bed. The door remained partially open, and he listened until their footsteps died away in the corridor. Harry buried his face in his hands. He didn't cry, but he felt close to it. His friends knew so little. It used to be he told them everything, and now he was keeping secrets like a dirty liar. He almost couldn't bear it.

For a long time he sat alone, dwelling on the darkness he had left them in. They didn't know about the prophecy, what had happened during the summer, or of his illness. So many big events remained a secret. The sad fact was Harry didn't even want to admit these facts to himself. How could he explain to them what even he didn't understand.

A voice came from the doorway. "So I take it you told them nothing?"

"No," Harry said, straightening up and looking Snape straight in the face.

"Why not?"

"I didn't feel like it, that's all. No need to worry them."

"Is that really the reason?"

The question was so simple, and yet Harry could not summon an answer. He opened his mouth, and yet no words came out. "That's what I thought," Snape said. "Even you don't know."

"Like you do!" Harry accused. "You don't understand what I'm going through right now."

"Yes I do," Snape answered smoothly. "It's called denial. You need to accept the fact that you don't have complete control of your life and that things happen all the time that can't be stopped."

"Leave me the hell alone!" Harry snarled, not wanting to hear what he so dearly needed to.

"I will leave you alone for now, but you must face the facts eventually. If you don't come to terms with it now, it will hit you suddenly, and the pain will be as unbearable at the disease you are suffering from." Snape held to his promise, and promptly left. Harry shut the door immediately and locked it tight, not even opening it for the house elf with his dinner. Instead, he just paced in his room back and forth. Snape was wrong. He wasn't in denial. He knew perfectly well what was happening to him.

Harry abruptly stopped. Didn't he?

A/n: Tell me what you think. Next chapter, will Snape be the friendly ear that Harry needs, or will Harry still refuse to talk about it?


	21. Chapter 21: Secret Emotions

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Well, I must say thank you for the reviews. Dianne, I'm so glad you're enjoying this so far, and I hope that my story continues to keep you happy with what happens next ;) USA-Jeanette: Wow. I must say that I never considered that, but it's brilliant! I have been trying to come up with some way for Harry and Snape to become closer, but I believe you've solved that problem. So, thanks, and I hope you don't mind if I kind of borrow an idea from your review. For the rest of my reviewers, I am so glad that you loved it. I find it very interesting to read your thoughts on the story and get an idea of what you would like to read on here.

So, I hope you liked Chapter 20, those who didn't review. I had to postpone updating this chapter because of a trip I took recently, but now I'm finally going to finish this. So enjoy it! Also, I have this horrible feeling I'm making tons of grammar mistakes in this story. So if anyone at all would mind Beta-reading for me, please let me know.

Don't forget to check my website, and as always to r/r.

Chapter 21: Secret Emotions

Harry sat alone in his room after his friends left. He felt so utterly deserted and alone. He had absolutely no idea what he would tell his friends. In his heart, he knew that he should tell them so that they would not be in the dark when the…time came. And yet, he didn't want to see the looks of pity they would give him when they looked at him. It always made him feel uncomfortable when they would give him the same look a person would give a wounded dog.

Harry sat on his bed for a while, too depressed to even move. He saw the large pile of letters on his desk and moved toward them slowly, carefully taking the twine that held them together off. There had to be at least a dozen letter sitting in that awkward shaped pile. The majority of them seemed to be from the Weasley family, although some Order members had contributed to the stack as well. Harry thought that the only letter that would make him truly happy would be one from Sirius, and yet he knew that that letter would never come. Harry pulled the first letter off of the top and opened it up. It was from Hermione, who had written about how sorry she was about the attack, and how she wished he didn't have to spend the summer with Snape, although he should think of it as an opportunity to learn occlumency and to get along with the potion's master. Harry gave a disgusted look at that comment. He read the next letter, another letter of sympathy from Ron this time. He called Snape a git a number of times, and expressed a deep regret that Harry couldn't come to Headquarters this year. The letter seemed mostly a repeat of Hermione's. As Harry sat reading the letters, he found that they were vague and awkward, like no one knew exactly what to say to him.

After reading through the letters of encouragement and support, Harry left his room to wander around the castle, whether Snape liked it or not. His feet carried him wherever he felt like going, never really knowing his destination or what he was going to do when he got there. He vaguely realized he was climbing a staircase at one point, but found he really didn't care. It was only as he neared the top of one stairway that he noticed he had failed to bring his cane with him. Harry looked down at the staircase he had just climbed, and the seemingly endless number of stairs leading back down. His legs felt perfectly fine! It was almost like some sort of miracle, that he had finally achieved the task of walking again on his own, just as he had done for nearly fifteen years. For some people, the simple task he had just completed would be considered of no great importance, but for Harry it was a feat to be proud of.

Harry found his way to the Gryffindor tower. The fat lady sat snoozing in the frame. "Excuse me?" Harry said quietly, awakening the portrait. "Oh dear! A student? School hasn't begun without me has it?"

"No, ma'am. I'm just…here for the summer. Would you mind if I go in for a little while? I think I left a possession of mine in their from last year."

The fat lady looked at him skeptically, then nodded in consent. "I suppose you can't do too much harm. If that's what you really want, then go ahead and go in." The portrait swung open, allowing Harry inside for the moment. He entered into the common room, which was dark now and so empty. It held none of the usual warmth and familiarity of the school year, now that it was empty of students. It was just an empty room, like his room at the Dursley's was. An empty room, void of love and people. The walls held the memories of the people who had been there, and yet seemed so unwillingly to share their emotions with him.

Harry sat in the same comfortable chair that he sat in so often when cramming for tests when school was in session. He was so comfortable, just sitting there. He looked to the fireplace, where Sirius's head had appeared as he sat lazily in front of the burning fire. Sirius…

He missed his godfather so dearly. Harry sat staring at the fireplace as though he expected Sirius's head to appear there any minutes. Any minutes now… But there was no one there. Just a cold hearth, where no one would speak to Harry. A tear slid down the teen's cheek. Every one he loved, gone. And yet, he thought, he would soon join them again, wouldn't he?

Harry stood up and moved to the hearth, kneeling before the empty, dark opening in the wall. "Sirius," he whispered. He closed his eyes, if he imagined hard enough, he could almost see his godfather's head floating in the flames. He could hear his voice…

"What do I do, Sirius? I'm lying to everyone, and I don't like the way that feels. I want to tell them everything, but I can't bring the words out of my throat. They just get caught, and won't come out. I can't tell them, no matter how much I want to." He closed his eyes again, and actually listened for a response. None came to his ears, but he still continued to talk. "It's the worst thing ever, I think, knowing that I'm dying and not being able to stop it. I mean, I figured that there was a good chance I could die fighting Voldemort, but at least I had a fighting chance that way. With this, disease, I'm just dying, unable to save myself. And the worst thing is, it could have been prevented. The person who was supposed to save my life is the one who's killing me! I feel betrayed, Sirius, and so alone. I wish we could talk like we used to. I need someone to talk to. The only person in ear-shot doesn't even care that I exist. Not that I completely blame him, though. It is my fault he's being hunted now by dark wizards everywhere. I just want someone to listen to me; someone who actually cares. I can't tell Ron and Hermione. I can't bear to think of what their relationship with me will be once they know. I've seen the looks dying people receive. It's all pitying looks, and I don't want to see that. I want to live the rest of my life like I always have. I want to LIVE, Sirius." He fell silent, eyes closed once more. The tears fell down his face, but Harry caught them before they fell onto his shirt. He scooted back against the wall and leaned his head back, listening to the sounds of the quiet school.

Floors below him, a potion's master sat in front of his own fireplace. Dumbledore had been right, the boy did venture into his common room, and he did pour out his soul to an absent figure. It was creepy how Albus knew these things. Harry had no idea his every word had been heard, and would never find out if Snape had anything to do with it. He actually felt a little guilty for causing the boy pain. It had been, after all, his fault that the boy was dying in the first place. But he was trying to fix that.

Above all, though, Snape couldn't believe that the brat felt remorse for being the cause of Snape's current predicament. That ruined the image Snape had created of him. Was he really the spoiled Golden Boy that Snape always made him out to be? It didn't seem like it anymore. More and more, Snape was being proven wrong, and even though he didn't normally like to be proven wrong, he found it oddly refreshing to be wrong about this. Maybe the son of James Potter wasn't like his father at all. Snape shook his head in dismissal. He shouldn't think things like that. It was much easier just to hate them both. And yet…

Snape thought especially about the last thing Harry had said. "I wasn't to LIVE!" It was such a simple wish, and yet one that Snape understood entirely. Severus hated to admit it, but he felt a little guilty for leaving the boy alone. That couldn't be good for the boy, to be dying and alone like that. And yet, Snape knew that the boy wouldn't except help from him. He wouldn't except any sort of recognition from the most hated professor in the school. Snape knew what he would have to do—he would have to earn Potter's trust. Dumbledore was always busy, and Potter felt that he couldn't tell anyone else. Snape was the only other person who really knew, and yet was hated by the boy. Severus felt that the boy needed to talk to more than a dead guardian, and if that person happened to be him, then so be it.

Snape turned back to his desk. It was a mess of papers. This was so unlike him. Normally his desk was in pristine condition, every paper organized and no clutter at all. Then again, he rarely doted so on his work. There were many things that needed his attention lately, and he hadn't been sleeping well. His dark mark burned constantly, and if he just tried to ignore it, the mark seemed to just burn more. Snape knew that the Dark Lord was doing this on purpose as payback for having become a traitor.

The next morning, Harry sat eating his breakfast alone in his room again when there was a knock on his door. "Come in," Harry said dully, and the door slowly opened to reveal the Potion's master standing there. Harry stopped eating and looked up at him, waiting for a word from the professor on what he had probably done wrong since last time they spoke.

"I have been informed that you are to be in my NEWTS class next year, is that correct?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Your skills in the past few years have left me doubtful of your ability to handles such an advanced class. I am going to give you the opportunity to prove me wrong. You are to report to me every morning after breakfast, where I will give you a potion to brew that you should have learned already. The only notes you are allowed are the ones that you wrote down while in my class last year. Do you think you can handle that?" the potion's master asked, sneering at the sitting student.

"I don't know. It might prove to be too 'difficult'," Harry retorted.

Snape lowered his voice to a dangerous level and hissed, "I am giving you an opportunity to make up for several mistakes you may have made in my class. I can request that you not enter my class at all, and I have sufficient evidence to prove that you are an inadequate student and not ready to be in my class. So, yes or no, Potter? Do you wish to actually take a remedial potions class or not?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"Good. Finish your breakfast then come to my office. I have an assignment waiting." Snape pulled the door closed and walked away. Harry glowered in the direction of the door, not wanting to spend any more time with the irritating professor than he had to. Then again, he really had nothing better to do. All of his homework was finished, and he really did need to work on his potion making skills. What could it hurt?

Harry walked slowly down to the office, notes in hand from fifth year, and knocked on the door. "Enter," Snape's sharp voice ordered. Harry obeyed reluctantly, and found that the room had a cauldron sitting on a table awaiting his arrival. "You are to brew an Invigoration Draught, to see how yours really is. Get to work." Harry knew why he was being asked to brew this potion specifically. It was the one he had been given a zero for because the professor had broken his flask on the floor after Harry's intrusion into his pensieve. Harry knew that he had done the potion correctly the first time, so all he had to do was follow his notes and he could do it well enough.

For the full hour and a half, Harry worked on the potion, carefully brewing it to the best of his ability. Thankfully, he received no "help" from his potion's master. Snape stayed busy with his notes the entire time. When Harry was finished, the potion looked the exact color it was supposed to. He bottled it and brought it up to the desk. "Are you sure you've done it correctly?" Snape asked, not looking up.

"Yes sir," Harry said with emphasis on the yes.

"Then go. I'll see you at occlumency."

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He left the room in a brisk walk, satisfied for once after having brewed a potion.

Meanwhile, Snape was looking over his notes again. He had found it! The one factor he had forgotten! But was it correctable? Could he fix a mistake and not be responsible of someone else's death?

A/n: For those of you who read To Wish One Could Forget, I am pleased to announce that I am re-doing a considerable amount of the last few chapters and extending the ending, so look for updates on that coming soon!


	22. Chapter 22: Happy Birthday, Harry!

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything

Okey dokey. So, last time I made a big mistake when I was editing. (See, this is why I need a beta reader! I do worse when I edit then when I actually just let it be.) I tried to edit on my own and ended up screwing it up badly. Oh boy. Thanks Gwenneth, for pointing that out. I must say "Bravissimo!" You're the only one who pointed it up. Sigh Screwed up again. This is getting ridiculous!

Well, anyway, thanks to people who reviewed last chapter, even though it was short and I made a slight blunder. If you didn't review, please do. I enjoy reading them.

So, here is the next chapter. To Wish One Could Forget is coming a bit slowly, but after I update this chapter my full dedication will be to the next segment of that story. I'm going to alternate between them so I don't get too confused.

Please don't forget to read/review. (Umm, forgive me, but my timeline is a little off on my story, so don't get mad if my time is way out of whack here.)

By the way, I have a new website now, for the few people in my groups at yahoo. It's now twilightauthorspotterpage(dot)bravehost(dot)com. Take a peak at it and tell me what you think.

WOW! Thanks to Spirit White for beta reading my story! You were excellent.

Chapter 22: Happy Birthday, Harry

Two days later, the day before Harry's sixteenth birthday, Snape began to let Harry assist him in the potion's lab. Harry received owls from his friends containing packages, but he lay them on the dresser and left his room the same time that morning as always. He would leave them to open until tonight, when he would have time.

As was becoming normal, Harry went to Snape's office where his cauldron had already been set out with ingredients for the next potions. "Calming Draught," Snape said. "We'll keep it simple today; you may begin." Snape never looked up from the paper he was studying closely. Harry nodded, although he was positive that Snape hadn't seen him. The past few days his Potions Professor had been acting rather strangely; the whole time Harry was in the dismal office Snape continuously worked on large pieces of parchment, muttering to himself while jotting down notes. It was rather odd behavior for someone who Harry normally thought of as creepy and sinister.

The only time Snape was his normal self was during Occlumency lessons. The Professor stood in front of him each evening while impatiently waiting for Potter to clear his mind the best he could. Harry seemed to be making no progress, and instead his skills seemed to be diminishing. It took Harry longer to push Snape out of his mind then it did when he had first gotten it down. "You've quite trying!" Snape had sneered the night before.

"I haven't! You're just not giving me time!" Harry knew that was a lie, but still decided to say it anyway. Snape shot Harry a nasty glare.

"Tomorrow and the day after I expect you to practice Occlumency for several hours before you arrive here; do you understand?" Harry nodded, feeling bitter. He would have to practice Occlumency on his birthday? That didn?t seem very fair, though he wisely said nothing.

On July 30th Harry sat before the cauldron cutting the ingredients carefully and wondering how his birthday would be this year. True; he had gifts to open tonight when he had time but he would have no one to spend it with, no one who cared anyway. Snape certainly wouldn't go out of his way to do anything nice for him. Harry considered asking Snape for a day off, and then brushed the thought out of his mind like a ridiculous idea. Yet it was a ridiculous idea that would not go away. It was his one special day of the year, so how could he not be expected to celebrate it at least a little?

Snape was paying absolutely no attention to Harry at the moment, presently writing all sorts of strange letters and symbols on the board as though trying to figure something out. They looked a bit like the symbols Muggles used in Chemistry and other complex mathematics and sciences, yet they were somehow different. Harry had no clue what any of them meant and didn't want to try to figure them out, so he instead returned his full concentration to his complex potion.

While Harry was slicing the ginger root for the potion, the knife slipped and bit into his palm; cutting through the skin. Raising his hand to examine it, he saw that he'd sliced himself fairly well, and was now bleeding extreme amounts for such a small wound. The amount startled Harry, who watched in shock as the blood welled and a drop landed in the potion and caused it to hiss and spit everywhere. Snape's attention turned back to the disaster at hand, shooting Harry an evil glare before asking, "What happened?"

"My blood fell into the cauldron," Harry said, and as he spoke his blood flowed more steadily onto the floor.

"Evanesco!" Snape waved his wand and the ruined potion disappeared. The Professor turned his attention back to Harry, who was struggling to wrap the fabric of his sleeve around the wound. The blood wasn't stopping; still seeping, even through the thick material. "How badly did you cut yourself?" Snape asked in an odd voice.

"I didn't think it was that bad," Harry confessed. The site of all this blood was making Harry feel a bit nauseous.

"Oh for crying out loud," Snape said, seeing Harry's green face. He pointed his wand at the wound and muttered a spell that magically bound the wound in a bandage, and proceeded to give him a potion. Harry looked at it questioningly. "It's a blood replenisher and a coagulant," he snapped

"Why won't it stop bleeding on its own?"

"A side effect of the disease you have is hemophilia."

"So you mean that my blood is incapable of clotting on its own?"

"For the most part. You could bleed to death from a simple wound such as that one if it goes unattended long enough."

"That's a happy thought," Harry muttered. Snape said nothing, just returned to his desk. "Do you want me to start over?" Harry asked.

"No, you may leave. Make sure to be back for Occlumency and try to clear your mind before coming, Potter. You are doing abysmally for one whom at one time managed to expel me from you're mind."

Snape spoke smoothly and dismissively, yet Harry wanted to spit something in reply. He wanted to yell at the Potions Master, to scream his bloody lungs out. An unsurpassable amount of anger had just found its way inside his mind and he suddenly wanted to bash the Potions Master's face in. Harry actually had no reason to feel this sudden surge of hatred; he should be used to receiving such insults from the teacher? So why was he suddenly feeling the contempt that had lain almost dormant inside of his emotions recently? Harry had the sudden, sneaking suspicion that these feelings belonged to another, fed only by recent events.

Harry left the room hurriedly, wanting to get away from anyone before Voldemort found his way into Harry's mind completely. Although it was very doubtful that that could possibly happen, Harry wanted to be alone to get his mind under his own control.

Harry ran into his room and locked the door. Sitting on the bed in a cross-legged position, he closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing steadily. "Clear my mind," he told himself, and at the mere mental command, the thoughts seemed to melt away, and he felt his mind become clearer. And then, a thought entirely not his own entered his mind: snake eyes flashed behind his own, and a mirthless laughter echoed in his skull. Harry let go of his cleared state of mind, and memories flooded into his conscious mind. All of his thought, his emotions came back, and the voice within his head was listening.

"Dying, Potter?" Voldemort's voice hissed. "How interesting. However, that is not the death I desire for you to suffer."

"Shut up!" Harry yelled, but the voice continued.

"No, I want you to suffer at my own hand. Even if I must cure you myself I will be the one to kill you; no other has the right. My own hand will kill you Potter, in the end."

"No!" Harry screamed, and the voice laughed in response. Harry opened his eyes, and yet he could see nothing but darkness and the snake eyes peering into his own. "No! Leave me alone!"

Harry felt cold hands seize him. "Focus Potter!" Snape's voice commanded through the haze of his mind. "Push him out!"

"You can't save him, Snape; I'll control him eventually. It is inevitable." The words spoke through Harry's own mouth though he tried to stop them. He tried to push the other mind away from his own, but was so weak compared to it. Harry felt a wand tip placed to his temple and as voice whispered an unknown incantation, he felt the presence slip out of his mind and Harry's world went black as he collapsed against the bed.

"What time 's it?" Harry asked. He had not yet opened his eyes, and yet he knew from the cool cloth being placed on his burning forehead that someone else was in the room with him.

"It is 1:00 in the morning on the first day of August," Snape's calm voice replied.

"I missed my own birthday," Harry mumbled so quietly that he was confident Snape had not heard him. Yet the professor, who had developed a keen sense of hearing, heard every word, and although he absolutely refused to admit it, he felt sorry for the boy. No one should miss their one special day of the year. But Harry didn't know Snape had heard, and drifted back into his deep sleep where he was safe from Voldemort and all the other worries of the world.

It was near noon when Harry awoke again, this time alone in his room. He felt better, but his mind was still foggy. He had only a vague memory of being told what day it was, and was depressed at having been unconscious on his own birthday. It was gone, and you never get your sixteenth birthday but once in a lifetime. 'After all, how many more will you have?' a rogue thought voiced in his mind. Harry dismissed the voice, preferring not to think of that possibility.

Harry got up and onto his feet. He felt a bit lightheaded at first, but after taking a step forward, the feeling faded away and left a pang in his stomach that had to be reckoned with. He was surprised at the hunger; it had only been two days without food while the Dursleys' normally made him go much longer. Then again, the well-prepared meals at Hogwarts had spoiled him recently.

Harry snapped his fingers and Dobby appeared at the summons.

"Is Harry Potter sir hungry?" Dobby squeaked. Without waiting for an answer, Dobby said decisively, "Dobby will fetch you lunch!" and disappeared. Harry was slightly relieved at not needing to open his mouth for the House Elf, and seconds later Dobby was back with a plate of food.

"Thanks, Dobby." Harry said gratefully.

"Dobby is always happy to help Harry Potter," Dobby smiled his toothy smile. "Dobby must go help clean the castle, Harry Potter, but Dobby hopes to speak to Harry Potter again soon!"

Harry finished him meal quickly, gulping down large amounts of food to satisfy his hunger. While eating, Harry made a decision that he hoped would improve his odds, and once finished he dressed and ventured to Snape's office. He found the door closed and silence on the other side. Hesitantly, he knocked. "Enter," Snape said, so quietly that Harry almost didn't hear it. He opened the door and took a tentative step inward, not sure if he wanted to be alone with the Potions Master should he happened to be in a particularly nasty mood. "What do you want, Potter? Snape asked distractedly, never looking up from his work.

"I was thinking…"

"How unusual…" Snape muttered. Harry glared, then realized that Snape was not talking about him, but something he was looking at on his desk. He glowered but pressed on. "I was thinking about what happened two days ago, when Voldemort tried to take control of my mind."

"Don't say his name," Snape hissed, his eyes fixed on Harry's face in a fierce glare. "And what about it?"

"What did you do to get rid of him? How did you free my mind from his?"

"Occlumency," Snape sneered, as though Harry should have known the answer all along.

"I don't want that to happen again," Harry whispered desolately. "I don't like having him in my head. Someone could get hurt the next time it happens. I- I thought I had blocked him at first, but then he just, took control."

Snape nodded, never taking his eyes from Harry's face.

"You blocked him temporarily; your mind told me as much. You did, considerably well considering your abysmal performance during Occlumency lessons. You must first build up your endurance, and then your power in the skill will increase."

"I want to get better at it," he said, staring fiercely into the unblinking black eyes. "I want to free myself from his mind forever."

"So you want to practice now?" Snape asked, standing up from his desk and drawing his wand.

"Yes," Harry answered, fishing his out of his pocket. The movement looked so clumsy compared to the swift and gentle motion of Snape drawing his own. "All right then; one, two, three! Legilemens!"

Harry's mind was a whirlwind of emotions once more. Voldemort was cackling over him in the dungeon, laughing at Harry's misery. Harry saw his parents, telling him it was not his time to die. "Focus," Harry berated himself; and he began to try to push the thoughts away from his mind. The visions cleared slowly at first, memories still melting one into another, until they completely faded away.

"Took you long enough," Snape said, minus the usual sneer. "Shall we try again?"

Harry nodded. He took a deep breath and pushed all thoughts out of his conscious mind. "Clear," he thought. He heard Snape mutter the spell. For a brief moment it felt almost the same as it did when Voldemort tried to pry into his mind; his head was pounding and felt about to split open at the scar. He pushed the memories away, and Snape dove further into his mind, trying to breach his defensive wall. Harry's mind held fast for a moment, although the effort was physically exhausting and then Harry's mind walls collapsed, and the memories flooded so fast and heavy that Harry was flung on his back from the force

"You did well," Snape remarked. "Your will has improved, and with it your power to clear your mind."

"I guess all I needed was an incentive," Harry replied. Snape nodded slowly.

"I believe you need a break," Snape said, surprising Harry immensely. "Go to the library and find a book on rare healing herbs and research three forms of healing flowers. You have two days to finish the assignment. The book is in the front of the library; the third stack of books, on the second to the bottom shelf. Don't give me that look; I know you snuck in there recently." Harry nodded and left the room, tired from his mind exercises, but invigorated with success.

Harry entered the library and found the book exactly where Snape said it would be; an extremely large, old book with musty smelling, dog-eared pages and corners that looked as if a mouse had nibbled on them. He sat down at a table and began looking for healing flowers. The book wasn't in any specific order, with the plants spread throughout the book. While flipping through the pages, one picture jumped out at him, different from all the others:

"The Ponere Plant is said to give insight to the consumer. Brewed in a special potion to help the consumer find answers, the potion and the plant itself has faded into almost nonexistence. The one location where the Ponere plant can still be found is outside of a cave located in Ireland. The absolute location of the cave is unknown, although it is thought to be hidden by leprechauns. Legend has it that wizards were using the plant to find solutions to everyday problems and misusing the plant. The effects of the ponere plant can be lethal if the plant is overused within a short span of time."

Harry was intrigued, and thought that this sounded an awful lot like it dealt with the stone that he had found. He knew that he had to find out more of the cave. Harry ran through the library, searching for books on caves and ancient structures. He came across three immediately, and after scanning them briefly, found that none had the cave in it.

Finally, near the end of the library after seemingly hours of searching, Harry found a thick, old book on a shelfthat looked to be in almost the same condition as the other one had been. He flipped through the pages until he found an almost identical picture to the one in the Herbal book and took it back to his seat, studying both pictures, and then reading the columns beside. "The Cave of Revelations, as it has come to be known, is said to be the answer to all questions. Unlocked by a key that few can use or even find, its location has been hidden from the world for may generations, remaining in the deepest regions of Wizarding folklore. Much information about the cave was lost in the year 1752, after a society tried to prevent the cave from ever being discovered. In wizard-lore, the cave can be opened by one person alone. This person shall once again reunite the key and the cave, and find the answer to saving the wizarding world."

Harry reread the paragraph, stunned by what he read. It all fit; the cave, the plant, and the key would all reveal the answer to win the war. He wanted to read more, but his mind was reeling with information and for now, he simply gathered the two books and went back to his room.

Harry looked at the parcels waiting to be opened on his bedside table, and thought in dismay of his missed birthday. Not that it had ever been a special occasion, really. It was just that he felt odd, having missed it. He normally stayed up until midnight on his birthday; the act had become almost traditional for him. He opened them one by one, unwrapping gifts for his broom, although he still couldn't fly it for the time being, several tricks from the Weasley twins, an alarm clock from Hermione, although he really couldn't say that he enjoyed the annoyingly loud chime, and several other gifts from adults. Finally, Harry saw one last gift on the table. It was wrapped in black paper, and there was no label on it. Harry felt almost hesitant opening it. He knew that Moody would have advised against it, and yet he wanted so badly to open the gift.

Harry carefully unwrapped one corner of the paper, holding the parcel ridiculously far from his face with his arms. Nothing happened, so Harry opened each corner as slowly as the one before it so that there would be no surprises. The paper fell off, revealing the contents of the gift. "The Power of the Mind: Wandless Magic and Occlumency for Gifted Wizards."

The book intrigued him he had to admit, for it looked extremely interesting. He opened the front cover, and read what was written inside: "Potter, Thought you might find this interesting if not helpful. S. Snape." Short and simple, and yet the message said enough. Harry could hardly believe his eyes. Snape had practically given him a birthday gift. Harry put the book down on the bed beside him, and couldn't help but think 'This certainly was a birthday to remember.'

A/n: I know, took long enough, huh? ;-) sorry about that. Please r/r.

Ponere means "to make clear, reveal, disclose" in latin, if anyone was wondering.


	23. Chapter 23: Accidental Outburst

Disclaimer: Sigh Still don't own anything. Do I have to put this every time?

OMG! I am SO SORRY! I meant to update MUCH MUCH sooner but I had quite a few personal situations arise that were unavoidable and PLEASE FORGIVE ME! Sorry sorry sorry I didn't mean it. Just to make up for it, no beta reader this time, sorry for the mistakes, but I want to get this up before something drastic darkens my doorstep again. And it is a really bad chapter and I absolutely hate it, but it's needed somehow or another, can't do the rest of this story without it.

Well, I read HBP, and let me just say that that makes this story a bit AU and OOC for ahem certain people in case you haven't read it. Oh boy. So, I'll just continue with this story.

To Wish One Could Forget is going a little slowly, but I'm trying to update them both one at a time.

Well, I'm not going to talk much this time. Quick note to Gwennyth, I would prefer to be corrected, so no worries. Thanks, in fact. I need people to point out my mistakes (hence the beta reader)

And here is…

Chapter 23: Accidental Outburst

The next day, Harry promptly appeared for lessons with Snape. "Which potion today, sir?" Harry asked.

"I want you to brew the Babbling Beverage on page 696. I think you'll find it easy enough." Snape turned back to the paper on his desk, then stood up. "I trust you can manage brewing this on your own? I will need to leave for a while. In the meantime, once you finish the potion, leave a phial on my desk and eat lunch. We will resume our regular occlumency lessons at the normal time." And without further word, the professor swept out of the door, his long cape trailing behind him.

Harry wondered where Snape was going that appeared to be so important, but tried to push his natural curiosity of his head to continue with the babbling beverage. But as Harry turned matters over in his mind, Snape's behavior did seem quite strange to him: even if it was the overgrown bat he had known since he was eleven. As Harry tried to think of the meaning of the bizarre mannerisms, he focused less on his potion than he should have. The potion did not begin to bubble as it should have; when bubbles did arise, they were small and pink instead of large and purple. Harry tried to add the missing fairy hair, which made the bubbles slightly larger, but a musty smell began to arise from the potion instead of one of honeysuckle. All in all, the potion was a botched concoction, meeting few of the standards it was supposed to have met.

Harry reluctantly bottled the potion and set it on Snape's desk, then left the room. His stomach was already beginning to growl, and he could almost smell the food before he even reached his room. As Harry entered, he saw one of the house elves leaving, having set a bowl of food on the bedside table. Steam arose from the bowl of potato soup, but the Pumpkin juice was just cold enough without it giving him a brain freeze. Harry ate slowly, as he was in no real rush to get anything done. The books from the library still sat on top of the bureau, but he didn't feel like reading them at the moment. They contained so many secrets that he had no solution for. He would need Hermione's help with the problems they contained. Until then, he would practice Occlumency and work on his potions for the NEWTs class.

At the precise time, Harry went to the office for his lesson on Occlumency, but upon knocking on the door, received no response. Remembering all past experience of having entered a room unbidden, Harry was of course hesitant to open the door. But curiosity always found Harry an easy target, and his mind ached to know why no one has answered the door. It was very un-Snape like to be late for a schedule. Well, when he was a death eater he had of coursed been tardy, but now he really had no reason.

Harry grasped the cold door handle in his hand and turned it slowly, making sure not to make noise to attract any unwanted attention. The door slowly swung open, revealing a dark and sinister scene. Yes, it was the same room that Harry had been in everyday for the past few weeks, but it was much darker, cold, and seemed to harbor an ill-presence. "Professor," Harry called softly. Somewhere in the room, someone was breathing. "Professor?" Harry tried to focus his eyes in the dark, but couldn't see the desk, where the sound was evidently coming from.

"What do you want?" Snape asked in a very threatening voice.

"Occlumency lessons, sir," Harry said as politely as he could. He had the horrible feeling that Snape was not in the mood to converse.

"You ungrateful brat. I cancelled it for today. Now get out."

"I'm sorry professor. You just didn't tell me." Oh no, Harry thought. Should have shut up. He could almost feel the anger radiating off the professor, even if he couldn't see him.

"I don't have to tell you anything, little snot! Now get out!"

"Sorry professor." Harry turned and reached for the door handle, coughing as he did so.

"What is it now, boy?" Snape asked.

"Sorry sir, I just don't feel well, that's all."

"You always don't feel well, Potter."

Harry would have said something, but felt it better to just so nothing. No sense reasoning with a drunk man, as he had learned from experiences with the often inebriated Vernon Dursley. "Tell me something, Potter, how does it feel knowing that everyone is concerned about your personal well-being?" Silence. Harry didn't know how to answer. The question felt like a trap, as so many of Snape's questions did. "How does it feel to know that no one is ever going to give up on you? That there are those so concerned about your well-being that they refuse to give up any hope that you may still live when death is almost certain? Do you know how much the headmaster has tried to prevent your impending death? Your whole life seems to concern him. You're killing him! Did you know that? You're killing Albus Dumbledore. That's something the Dark Lord would like to say, that's for sure."

"What do you mean killing Dumbledore?" Harry found his voice ad had to ask the question.

"Don't play daft, Potter. Your little excursions worry him. He's old, even in wizarding standards. 150 years old and he worries constantly about you."

"I don't mean for him to." Harry could feel his heart breaking. He didn't mean to cause Dumbledore such great distress. Was this really what he was doing? Killing someone who had come to mean so much in his life.

Snape made a noise that sounded like a snort of disbelief. "You've got the whole wizarding world either depending on you, doting on you, or trying to kill you. For crying out loud, you've even got me trying to find a cure for you! I feel guilty, if you can believe that! Guilty, and it's not even my fault." Now that was shocking. Snape felt guilty? For what?

"I'm very sorry sir. I'll leave now." And before the professor could protest, Harry was gone. Harry felt a sort of knot in his throat that he could not force down, and he felt guilty somehow. How ironic, he thought, Feeling guilty about making someone else feel guilty.

Harry did not return to his room imediately. Instead, he went to the astronomy tower and peered out over the water. Somehow, he couldn't wait for school to be back in, and at the same time he dreaded it. He did not return to his room that night, as he fell asleep in the tower, comforted only by the soft night breeze.

A/n: Again, I am so sorry. Thanks for putting up with the delay. I'll try to be quicker next time. Please r/r.


	24. Chapter 24: Lost

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

I'm sorry it has taken me so long. I would tell you why, but it's a very long explanation; part of it has to do with my hoping to launch a freelance career soon, the other with something very personal that occurred. I'll update the other story hopefully soon after this one (as the older southerner's say: God willing and the creek don't rise). Thank you all very much for the reviews. Now, enjoy the next chapter!

Chapter 24: Lost

Snape awoke the next morning with a horrible hangover. His head pounded fiercely, and even the sound of his wand being removed from the bedside table agitated his brain. Snape dressed slowly, attempting to be careful not to make any loud sounds, although failing miserably once one of his shoes fell on the floor with a loud thud. Walking quickly, Snape ventured to his potion stores and found his own special concoction of his hangover cure and took a long swig from the phial.

Trudging slowly as the potion began to take effect, Snape made his way to Harry's room to wake the boy; it was far past time to wake up, and the boy would have much work to do once he was awake. Snape knocked out of courtesy on the door, but received no answer. 'Potter is being stubborn again,' Snape thought snidely. He pushed open the door to see a surprising sight; Harry was not, nor did it look like he had ever been, in bed. The sheets were pulled back, but there was no sign that anyone had slept there during the night. The room was entirely undisturbed.

"Potter!" Snape growled. There was no answer. "POTTER!" Still nothing. Snape slammed the door and strode from the room, seething that the boy would dare to wonder off, especially since he knew all of the work that would have to be done.

Thinking that the boy had possibly become hungry and gone to the kitchens, Snape started looking there. A house elf in a beige rag greeted him. "What can we do to help you, good sir?" The elf squeaked.

"Has a boy been here? Dark hair, scar on head?"

"Master Potter? No, we have not seen him for a few days. Dobby was going to give Harry Potter his tray, but could not find him in his room."

"Thanks." Snape growled, and walked away seething.

As Snape strode down the hall to find his charge, a sudden thought hit him. What had happened during the previous night? Snape did not remember seeing the boy at all after his Potion's lessons. Was it possible the two had had an encounter? If they had, there was no telling what Snape could have said to him. He had begun to drink out of his own wretched self-pity, and drinking tends to enhance one's present emotions, he had to admit. What had been said? What had been done? Countless imaginings plagued Snape's mind as he began to jog down the hallways calling for Harry.

Snape began to think, his thought processes limited by the numbing potion he had just taken. Where would the boy be? The sudden image of the astronomy tower came to mind, and Snape immediately ran there. The many steps seemed to fly beneath his feet as he ran up, with the horrible feeling that something was wrong. Throwing open the door to the tower, the first thing to come to Snape's ears was a raspy breathing.

Snape knelt beside the boy, who lay sleeping on the floor, curled into a ball. "Potter," Snape voiced, shaking Harry's shoulder. "Potter!" The boy made no attempt to respond. His eyes stayed closed, and his breath remained shallow but consistent. "Potter!" This time Snape nearly yelled, sending his own head into a ruckus as his own shout re-awakened the quieted hangover. It did not, however, reawaken the boy. Snape pulled his wand from his pocket, aimed it at Harry and whispered "Enneverate." Harry's eyes slowly opened, and a look of near panic flashed into his eyes.

"That was…." Snape was seething.

"Incredibly stupid," Harry finished in a hoarse whisper. "On both of our parts." His eyes drifted closed again.

"What the bloody hell do you mean by that!"

Harry did not open his eyes, but continued speaking. "Stupid of me to bother you, stupid to run up here and spend the night in the cold night air when I am sick, and you were stupid to get drunk when you are my caregiver until Dumbledore returns and it was stupid of you to lose your temper for no obvious reason."

"Stop rambling, Potter," Snape growled. "And the next time you even insinuate that I am stupid, it will be a week of detention for you." Snape grabbed Harry's upper arm. "Now stand up." Opening his eyes once more, Harry pulled himself up with the aid of Snape at his arm. "We'll go back to your room, where you will take a hot bath and get some more rest."

"You're not mad at me, then?" Harry asked, glancing at Snape with a bewildered expression.

"I have not decided yet."

Harry decided it would be best not to question Snape any further. If he wasn't mad, why instigate?

The pair shuffled back to Harry's room, where Harry took his bath. As Snape waited, he retreated temporarily back to his office. What was it he had said? Why had he drunken so much the previous night? No, he knew the answer to that. It was his anniversary. Eighteenth to be precise. He had celebrated alone as usual; alone except for the bottle of gin that was used to celebrate the occasion. All he remembered was breaking out the bottle and pouring shot glasses into his throat. After that, it was all a blur. Should he ask?

Snape opened his desk drawer to take out the ring that he kept in there and occasionally held. But as he reached his hand in, his fingers could not find the piece of cold metal that should have been there. Snape pulled the drawer completely out and began rifling through the sorted papers that were inside, unable to find his most treasured possession. And yet he could find it nowhere. Snape felt a sort of unfamiliar panic begin to overwhelm him from the pit of his stomach. Where was it? Where was Isabella's wedding ring? The small gold ring with the blue diamond? How could he have lost it?

For the next hour, Snape scoured his entire office and his room. The ring was nowhere to be found. Slowly, the disheartened man went into his office and sat at the desk. He closed his eyes in frustration. Where was it?

"Sometimes, the things we think we have lost aren't really lost at all," a sweet voice said. Snape looked up to see Isabella standing before him. "Sometimes, it's just misplaced."

"I'm dreaming," he said.

Isabella nodded. "Yes, you are dreaming."

"Isn't misplaced and lost the same thing?"

"Not at all my dear. It all depends upon where you look."

"And where should I look?"

Isabella only smiled. "You only have to look. Sometimes, it's right where you left it, and although you've seen it, your eyes were too unfocused to see what was right before you."

"Isabella," Snape said, his voice tight. He rose from the chair. "I miss you."

"I missed you too."

"I feel so alone."

"But you never are, Severus. I have never left you. Sometimes, your eyes are too unfocused to see what was right before you." Her smile grew sadder as she spoke.

Snape looked at his wife with a perplexed expression. He reached out for her, but as he did, his vision became cloudy. He blinked to clear his sight, but even as he reopened his eyes, he was sitting back in his desk chair.

Immediately, Snape rose and went to the bookshelf. He slid the one book entitled Semper out of the shelf and opened to reveal a photo inside. He looked at it intensely as the photo of his wife smiled out, her smile sad, as though she knew the fate that would await her only weeks later. He closed the book back, and as he looked at the shelf where he had retrieved the book, there lay the ring. He picked it up carefully, as though afraid it may break. He took the book and the ring to his desk and sat down, fingering the picture and the ring tenderly. "I'm so sorry, my love," he whispered. "I lost myself after all this time. I lost sight of the things that were truly important, and covered all traces of them in gin." The last word he spat out. Looking up to the place where the gin was, Snape made a decision. He strode quickly to the bottle that remained, snatched it up, and dumped it out into a cauldron. "May I never lose sight again. _Evanesco._" The drink disappeared.

Snape went back into Harry's room after lunch. The boy sat up in the bed, reading one of his potions books. "Hello Professor," Harry said without looking up.

"Potter," Snape acknowledged. The Potions Master pulled a chair from the corner of the room and sat near the bed, gaining the boy's attention. Even as Harry looked at the older man, he knew something had changed.

"What is it Professor?" Harry asked in an almost concerned voice.

"I just wanted to tell you that yesterday was not a good day for me, but that is no excuse for my behavior. I also wanted to say that whatever I said…," he paused, "I didn't mean it."

Harry studied him for a long time. "Whether you meant it or not doesn't matter. It was the truth. There is nothing else to it."

Snape looked sharply at Harry. "What truth is that?"

"That I am a self centered brat. That I am in fact, killing Albus Dumbledore."

"I said that?"

Harry nodded. "You don't remember do you?"

Snape reluctantly shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. Whether you meant to say it or not, I know now. I think I always knew, it's just that I never really thought of it. So thank you, Professor. And also, thank you for trying to cure me."

"You're thanking me? You're thanking me when it is very likely that either way I will be the cause of you losing your life?"

"Sometimes," Harry said, "things aren't really lost. Our eyes just aren't focused to finding them."

"Potter…"

"What I mean is, even though I probably will die very soon, it doesn't mean my life was lost. It just means that I left this place; that my job was done. That's all."

"Very well said," Snape said. And he rose and left the room without another word from either of them.

End

A/n: Okay, I would have made it more profound and all, but I was on a time limit. Please r/r!


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